The dealer pushed a stack of yellow chips across the table.
"No, siree," said the player, "you don't give me no buttons. I' ll put my pile on this side and you put your pile on t'other side, and the winner takes 'em."
Snakey the Parson wavered a moment. It was against the rules, but here was too good a thing to lose. He turned, counted out the money, and placed it on his right, and began to deal from the box. The cards fell rapidly. For a time the blacks ran on the side of the house. Suddenly they changed and the queen and the ten of spades fell on the left. The dealer saw the card under his thumb and paused. The keen eyes of the old man were fixed on him. He determined to take the long chance, knowing that the loss was only temporary; and the jack of spades came up and fell on the side of the stranger.
With a whoop of joy the old man clutched the money. "I am going to try her agin!" he cried.
"Hold on," said the big cattle-drover, pushing up to the table; "my wad is as good as you; it is my turn now."
The dealer grinned. "You can both play, gentlemen," he said, speaking with a low, sweet accent.
"No, we can't," muttered the drover, with the childish obstinacy of a half-drunken man. "I want the whole shooting match to myself; he can have the next whirl at her."
Thereupon the drover dragged a big red pocket book from somewhere inside his coat, took out a thick, straight package of bills, and laid it down on the table.
"How much?" said the dealer, running his finger over the end of the package.
'"Same as Abe's," said the drover.