"I'll open it." His voice trembled.
"Good-night!" Vernon dropped his cards as if they burned him. "Sure you're looking at 'em straight, Pete?"
"Come again." The dealer shoved two blues out on the board.
"Back to you." The opener's fingers twitched as he dropped four.
"Once more."
"And two."
"That's enough for me." The dealer shrugged, and pushed forward two chips more.
The others sat in wordless enthralment as Pete stood pat and the dealer, with a smile, laid down the pack untouched. The betting proceeded cautiously at first, then by leaps and bounds as Pete lost his head and plunged wildly.
A small mountain of blue chips lay in the center of the table, and the dark, smiling youth seemed prepared to raise it indefinitely, when Pete sighed and drew his hand before his blurred eye-glasses.
"Call you!" he squeaked. "What you got, Cal?"