In four or five hands neither man held openers. Then Wharton caught aces, opened the pot, and took it down, the one-eyed man having nothing.
“Your first pot. It’s a bad sign for you, Jim,” he said, jeeringly.
“All right,” said Wharton, “I’ll take all the pots that come. The first is as good as any.”
But for the next twenty minutes it almost seemed that the superstition was to be upheld. Wharton won no more, and the one-eyed man was four hundred dollars ahead when there came a struggle on Wharton’s deal.
Catching two pairs, he made it ten dollars to play, and the one-eyed man promptly raised it ten. Wharton made good and the one-eyed man drew two cards.
It was evident enough that he had threes, having raised back before the draw, so Wharton, instead of standing pat, as he had thought of doing, took one. It proved to be a jack to his jacks up, and, as afterward appeared, the one-eyed man got a pair with his three sevens.
It was Wharton’s bet and he put up a hundred dollars.
“As much more as you have,” said the one-eyed man, pushing his blue chips forward.
“I call you,” said Wharton, and they counted the piles. Wharton had almost six hundred left, so the show-down put him ahead in the game.
“Good dealing,” said the one-eyed man, coolly, as he picked up the deck, but Wharton made no answer. Instead, he watched the deal more narrowly than ever. Something he saw seemed to interest him greatly.