"All right, Mr. Man," he answered on the instant, and went over and sat down in his chair. "But bring me a new pack and shuffle 'em clean, and I'll do the cutting myself."
"Ahhr!" snarled Bray, who was in villainous humor, as he hurled himself into his place. "Y'needn't make no cracks—I'm on the square—and I'll take no lip from anybody!"
"Well, shuffle 'em up then," answered Rimrock quietly, "and when I feel like it I'll make my bet."
It was the middle of the night, as Bray's days were divided, and even yet he was hardly awake; but he shuffled the cards until Rimrock was satisfied and then locked them into the box. The case-keeper sat opposite, to keep track of the cards, and a look-out on the stand at one end, and while a mob of surging onlookers fought at their backs they watched the slow turning of the cards.
"Why don't you bet?" snapped Bray; but Rimrock jerked his head and beckoned him to go on.
"Yes, and lose half on splits," he answered grimly, "I'll bet when it comes the last turn."
The deal went on till only three cards remained in the bottom of the box. By the record of the case-keeper they were the deuce and the jack—the top card, already shown, did not count.
"The jack," said Rimrock and piled up his money on the enameled card on the board.
"You lose," rasped out Bray without waiting for the turn and then drew off the upper card. The jack lay, a loser, in the box below and as he shoved it slowly out the deuce appeared underneath.
"How'd you know?" flashed back Rimrock as Bray reached for his money, but the gambler laughed in his face.