Slavens threw himself forward on the table, his elbows spread, scrutinizing the dice as if he had not yet figured the total.
“Yes; you win this time,” said he grudgingly, removing his hand from his stake, but dropping the money which he clutched in his fist at the same time. 159
With fatherly kindness Shanklin admonished him to hold on to his money, and helped him pick it up. And, sharp as his old eye was, he did not see that one of his precious dice, hidden under a bill, had changed places with another, which had waited that moment in the doctor’s hand.
The others around the table had given the game over to the amazing sheep-herder who seemed to have so much cash. They stood by, gaping and exclaiming, growing hotter and hotter with the fever all the time themselves, licking their dry lips, feeling of their money, getting ready to pitch into it as soon as the film of chance had thickened a little on their eyes, shutting out reason entirely.
Slavens straightened up and gave his backer two gentle prods in the ribs, which was the signal agreed upon to let the other know that the scheme was in working order, and that something was due to happen. He counted down one hundred dollars and stood expectant, while Shanklin held his hand over the mouth of the dicebox and looked at him with contemptuous reproach.
“No, you don’t! No, you don’t!” said Hun. “If you want to play this man’s game you got to shove up some money of your own. That money’s my money, and you’ve been shovin’ it on and draggin’ it off so much I’m afraid you’ll wear it out if you keep on.
“It’s mine, I tell you! Every cent of it’s mine! If you got any of your own put it up, and then I’ll roll ’em. If you got a hundred to pile on top of that, or five 160 hundred, or ten hundred, come on and pile it up. Then I’ll roll ’em. But I ain’t a goin’ to stand here and speculate in my own money all night!”
So there they were, caught in a blind cañon when they thought they were coming into the clear. That was an unlooked-for and unprepared-for turn that Shanklin had given to their plans. Right when they had him unsuspectingly loaded up so he could no more throw twenty-seven than he could fly, except by the tremendously long chance that the good die would fall right to make up the count, he sat down on his hind legs and balked.
Slavens was at the end of his rope. There appeared nothing for it but to withdraw the stake and sneak off with only half of his backer’s loss of the afternoon retrieved. He was reaching out his hand to pull the money away, when the little fellow with whiskers caught his arm.
Slavens thought he read a signal in the touch, and turned as if to consult his roll again. As he did so the little man thrust a comfortable wad of bills into his hand, and Slavens faced the table, counting down five one-hundred-dollar bills.