"I'll bet"—the hand that extracted the neatly folded bills from the leather case shook and the voice rose to a ludicrous falsetto—"I've got you beat, and if I had any more money with me I'd come back at you."
"You've got a watch there," remarked Mr. Johnson. "Let's see it. I ain't going to stay for the raise. My three sevens don't look as good as they did."
"I paid fifty dollars for it!" piped the youth, passing the watch across the board. Both men examined it.
"Oh, well, I don't know anything about watches, but I'll take your word for it. Stick her up—here's the fifty."
"I've got four aces!" squealed the reporter as he spread them out face upward. He stared wildly at the other, and his hands made wet marks where they touched the board.
"No good," remarked his opponent blandly. "Mine's hearts—all in a row, with the jack at the top." One by one he laid them down—a straight flush. South Bend stared incredulously at the cards.
"All right, Mr. Stakeholder," laughed the salesman, "pass over the kale. Just slip out a five for your trouble."
"Just a minute." The voice of the stakeholder was quiet and his lips smiled. The two across the board bristled aggressively and the plucked one sniffled.
"Well"—there was an ugly note in the cigar salesman's voice—"a straight flush beats four aces, don't it?"
"Oh, yes, there is no question as to that. Are these the same cards we have been using?"