"Oh, I drew it a month ago," replied the sucker, surprised. "I 've only had two drinks in this town, which I hit 'bout an hour ago. But I shore lost a wad playin' faro-bank agin a towhead. Come on—lemme take sixty more of yore money, anyhow."
"Sixty-two!" snapped the proprietor, determined to have those two miserable dollars and break the sucker for revenge. "Every cent, you remember."
"All right; I don't care! I ain't no tin-horn," grumbled the other. "Think I care 'bout two dollars?" But he appeared to be very nervous, nevertheless.
"Well, put it on th' table."
"After you put yourn down."
"There it is. Now watch me close!" A gleam of joy flashed up in the angry man's eyes as he played with the shells. "Watch me close! Mebby it is, an' mebby it ain't—th' game's square, th' play 's fair. It's my hand agin yore eye. Watch me close!"
"Oh, go ahead! I'm watchin', all right. Think I 'd go to sleep now!"
The shifting hands stopped, the shells lay quiet, and the gambler gazed blankly down the unsympathetic barrel of a Colt.
"Now, Thomas, old thimble-rigger," crisply remarked the supposed sucker as he cautiously slid the money off the table, to be picked up later when conditions would be more favorable. "Th' little pea ain't under no shell. Stop! Step back one pace an' elevate them paws. Don't make no more funny motions with that hand, savvy? But you can drop th' pea if it hurts them two fingers. Now we 'll see if I win; I allus like to be shore," and he cautiously turned over the shells, revealing nothing but the dirty green cloth. "I win; it ain't there—just like I thought."
"Who are you, an' how 'd you know my name?" demanded the gambler, mentally cursing his two missing cappers. They were drinking once too often and things were going to happen in their vicinity, and very soon.