Pass after pass, and Slick stretched out over the bar and craned his neck. At last, with a graceful flourish a good hand fell to Buck, a suspiciously good hand, while Dave's thin lips were twisted into a one-sided smile. Buck looked at him reproachfully.
"Bud, you should oughter o' knowed better 'n that. I got six cards."
The smile faded from Dave's face and he stared at the cards like a man who sees ghosts. The stare rose slowly to Buck's face, but no one could possibly suspect such grieved reproach to be mere duplicity. It was too ridiculous—only Dave knew quite well that he had not dealt six cards. "Funny," he said. "Funny how a man 'll make mistakes."
"I forgive you this once, but don't do it no more," and Buck shuffled the cards, executed a particularly outrageous flourish, and dealt.
"Ha! Ha!" barked Bow-Wow Baker. "D—n if they ain't both makin' th' same sign. Must belong to th' same lodge."
Chesty Sutton dug him in the ribs with an elbow. "Shut up!" he hissed, never taking his eyes from the game.
Dave passed and Buck opened. Dave drew three cards to two high ones. Buck stood pat. Dave scanned his hand; whatever suspicion he might have had, vanished: he had never seen the man who could deal him a straight in that fashion. He backed his hand steadily until Buck's assurance and his own depleted cash made him pause, and he called. Buck solemnly laid down four aces. Four!—and Dave would have taken his oath the diamond ace had been on the bottom of the deck before the deal—and Buck had not drawn cards.
"They 're good," said Dave shortly, dropping his hand into the discard. "If you 're goin' to stay around here, Cheyenne, I 'll get revenge to-morrer." He started to rise.
"Nope, I guess not, Bud. I never play yore kind of a game with th' same man twice."
Dave froze in his position. "Meanin'?" he asked, coldly.