“I open for five,” said Reivers.
“Take the money,” laughed Toppy carelessly throwing his hand into the discard. For an instant Reivers’ eyes searched him with a look of surprise. The glance was sufficient to tell Toppy that what he had suspected was true.
“So he’s dealing ’em as he wants ’em!” thought Toppy. “All right. He’s brought it on himself.”
An hour later Reivers arose from the table with a smile. The money had changed hands. Toppy was snapping his watch back on its chain, and stuffing the bills into his pocket.
“Your money now, Treplin,” laughed Reivers. “Until somebody takes it away from you.”
But there was a new note in his laughter. He had been beaten, and his irritation showed in his laughter and in the manner in which, after he had taken another big drink of whiskey, he paused in the doorway as he made to leave.
“Great luck, Treplin; great luck with cards you have!” he said laughingly. “Too bad your luck ends there, isn’t it? What’s that paraphrase of the old saw? ‘Lucky with cards, unlucky with women.’ Good night, Treplin.”
He went out, laughing as a man laughs when he has a joke on the other fellow.
“What did he mean by that?” asked Campbell, puzzled.
“I don’t know,” said Toppy. But he knew now that Tilly had told Reivers of his talk with Miss Pearson the first evening in camp, and that Reivers had saved it up against him.