Dewing made no move to turn over his cards.
"If you feel that way about it, old-timer," he said as he raked back his remainder of unimperiled chips, "you can go down in your pocket."
"Table stakes!" objected Scotty.
"That's all right," said Dewing. "We'll suspend the rules, seeing there's no one in the pot but Johnson and me. This game, I take it, is going to break up right now and leave somebody feeling mighty sore. If you're so sure you've got me beat—dig up!"
"Cash my chips," said Scotty. "I sat down here to play table stakes, and
I didn't come to hear you fellows jaw, either."
"You shut up!" said Dewing. "I'll cash your chips when I play out this hand—not before. You're not in this."
"Hell; you're both of you scared stiff!" scoffed Scotty. "Neither of you dast put up a cent."
"Well, Johnson, how about it?" jeered Dewing. "What are you going to do or take water?"
"Won't there ever be any more hands of poker dealt?" asked Pete. "If I thought this was to be the last hand ever played, I'd sure plunge right smart on this bunch of mine."
"Weakening, eh?" sneered Dewing.