The Spider produced a roll of bills and peeled a ten spot therefrom. "Roll 'em! You an' me both craves action."
The Wildcat had hooked his fish.
He twisted the green taper dice in a handful of fingers whose tips bulged with a fine technique that had distilled from years of study and practice.
Here on the green cloth of the pool table was his field of battle.
Before him lay his entire capital, matched by an equal amount from the Spindlin' Spider's roll.
"I's a Wildcat for revenge, an' I's on my prowl! Pay-day dice, speak mah name! Bam! Five and a dooce. I lets it lay. Shower down!"
The Spindlin' Spider covered his bet.
"Gallopers, stay lame on seven. Train robber babies, fo'ty dollars in de sack. I reads six-five! Rally roun', boys. Shoots fo'ty dollars. Fade me, boy. Bugle dice, blow de cash call. Harvest babies, pick yo' cotton! Bam! An' I reads fo' trey!"
The Wildcat stowed away a trio of ten-dollar bills as an insurance policy against accident.
"Shoots fifty dollars!"