Again Stubbs scanned a hand that he felt sure would win. Hans was the dealer. As he drew two more cards, Stubbs suddenly gave a start. He had seen Hans slip a card from his sleeve.
Now Stubbs was not a fighter. He had shown that on more than one occasion. But the little man objected to being imposed upon. Also he had always stood for a square deal in a friendly game of cards. He had proven that more than once in his younger days. And now, seeing the man called Hans cheating made Stubbs' blood boil.
Quietly he leaned across the table and spoke.
"You," he said, shaking his forefinger in the man's face, "no wonder you say you are lucky."
"Why, what do you mean?" demanded Hans, his face turning pale, for he well realized the import of Stubbs' words.
"I mean," said Stubbs, and at that moment his hand dropped to his revolver butt, "I mean that you are a cheat!"
Stubbs produced his revolver and levelled it straight at Hans. Then he swept the circle of surprised faces about him with his eyes.
"Sir!" exclaimed Hans, "I demand an apology for those words."
"Well, you won't get it," returned Stubbs, decisively. He turned to the man next to Hans. "Reach up his sleeve there," he said, "and if you don't find a card or two I'll make you a present of all the money I have in my pocket."
Surprised, the other obeyed and the result vindicated Stubbs. Two cards fluttered from Hans' sleeve. Stubbs got to his feet.