The boatman gathered up the scattered pack and resumed his shuffling.
"You are about to make the acquaintance," he said, "of that certain branch of the great American sport known as freeze-out. You have ten chips; I have ten. Your chips are worth a thousand each; you'll have to take my word for it that mine are worth the same. The limit is anything you have in sight."
Morton yawned.
"Really," he drawled, "I'm not interested, you know."
"You will be," the boatman reassured him. "It's going to be highly interesting. Will you cut?"
"Rather, I think I'll say good day," and Morton made as if to rise.
Then Rosalind noticed that a pistol lay at the boatman's side and that his hand sought it. Morton observed the movement, too, for with a bored sigh he settled back on his crossed legs.
"I'll cut," he said.
The boatman dealt and picked up his hand. For a few seconds his antagonist seemed not to know the purpose of the five cards that lay, face downward, before him; then he lifted them languidly.
"I say," he yawned, "is a pair any good in this game?"