“You jest send ’im to me,” commanded the Girl. “I’ll curl his hair for him!”
Nick’s face showed that the message was to his liking. It was evident, also, that he meant to lose no time in delivering it. A moment after he disappeared, Rance, who had been toying with a twenty dollar gold piece which he took from his pocket, turned to the Girl and said with great earnestness:
“Girl, I’ll give you a thousand dollars on the spot for a kiss,” which offer met with no response other than a nervous little laugh and the words:
“Some men invite bein’ played.”
The gambler shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, what are men made for?” said he, flinging the gold piece down on the bar in payment for the cigar.
“That’s true,” placidly commented the Girl, making the change.
Rance tried another tack.
“You can’t keep on running this place alone; it’s getting too big for you; too much money circulating through The Polka. You need a man behind you.” All this was said in short, jerky sentences; moreover, when she placed his change in front of him he pushed it back almost angrily.
“Come now, marry me,” again he pleaded.