The little man raked in the few dollars he had won for himself, walked away.
The dice man picked up the box.
Kells said: “Got enough?”
“Hell, no! I’ll bet it all on my own roll.” Dickinson held out his hand for the box.
“Make it snappy, boys.” The tall young man frowned, nodded briefly at Kells.
Dickinson was checking up on the amount. He said: “Two thousand, two hundred and forty...”
Kells put three thousand-dollar notes behind the line. The dice man threw a dozen or more glittering red dice on the table; Dickinson carefully picked out two.
“Get down your bets, men... A new shooter... We take big ones and little ones... Come, don’t-come, hard way, and in the field... Bet ’em either way...”
Dickinson was shaking the box gently, tenderly, near his ear. He rolled.
“Three — that’s a bad one...”