"'Well, I hope you are well fixed,' went on Dunwoody, 'for it's your last hand. I'm going to send you to your bunk as soon as I win this jack.'
"'The limit,' said Danforth, the pot-opener, skating five white chips into the center.
"'Five more,' said I, putting the chips in.
"'I'll call both of you,' said Dunwoody, shoving ten chips into the pile.
"It was up to Dunwoody's consumptive friend. He opened his lips to speak and little dabs of blood appeared at both corners of his mouth. His head fell back and at the same time the cards in his hands fell face up on the table. The hand was an ace high flush of diamonds. Dunwoody was standing over him in an instant, and Danforth and I both jumped up. Dunwoody wiped the blood away from the man's mouth with his handkerchief and then put the back of his hand on the man's face.
"'It's cold,' said Dunwoody, with a queer look.
"Then he placed his ear to his friend's heart. We waited for him to look up with a good deal of suspense. He raised his head after about thirty seconds.
"'Crowhurst's dead,' was all he said.
"Dunwoody telegraphed ahead for an undertaker to meet the train at Omaha. He gathered up the cards, too, and the chips.
"'Crowhurst won that pot,' he whispered to us. 'His pat flush beat all of our threes.'