"Not at all," said Ralph coolly. "This is mild beside the play in New York clubs."
"Well, it ain't hard to win all you've got," snarled Joe.
"Three cards," said Ralph to the dealer. "This is my last hand."
He had been dealt a pair of aces. He drew another ace with a pair of sixes, and a comfortable little satisfaction warmed his breast. His face was like the Sphinx's. Joe Mixer drew two cards. Ralph, watching him narrowly, saw a tiny spark of satisfaction light his eye when he looked at them, and guessed that he held three and had drawn a pair. Revenge was as sweet to Ralph as anybody.
Joe bet in a small way, and Ralph raised him modestly. The others had dropped out. Joe raised again, and Ralph followed suit. Joe, seeing that he was not to be shaken off, began to plunge. Ralph's matches were exhausted long ago, and he threw the money on the blanket, raising Joe a dollar each time. Joe began to breathe hard and his face became as pale as a butcher's face may, except his ears, which remained a furious crimson. He raised Ralph five, and finally ten dollars at a time, hoping to bluff him out. Ralph covered his bets with a smile, and each time raised him one. A respectable little hill of greenbacks grew on the blanket. Crusoe and the breed eyed it hungrily. Finally, when it came to Joe's turn, he stopped. Little beads of perspiration had sprung out on his forehead.
"What's the matter?" asked Ralph innocently. "Are you scared off?"
"No!" cried Joe with an oath. "Ain't got no more money," he added sheepishly. "Don't carry it on the trail. Will you take my I.O.U.?"
Ralph shook his head. "A cash game, you said. I'll take back my last raise and call you instead."
Joe with a great air of bravado laid down three kings and two queens.
Ralph made believe to be dumbfoundered. Joe grinned and reached for the money with a trembling hand; whereupon Ralph counted out his three aces and his pair of little ones.