"That's all right. I'll get you yet."
He won several pots, and then opened a double pot for five dollars. He had a king high flush, and he intended the heavy opening to operate as a reverse bluff, to argue a small hand. The offensive fellow stayed and drew one card. He made a small full and Bodney felt his heart stop beating. At eleven o'clock he had simply the five dollar reserve fund. And he saw it melt away—saw his last chip go in. He drew, having a show for the pot, and made jacks up. The opener had queens up. Heavy of heart, Bodney went down the stairs. He cursed himself for playing after dinner. "If I only had ten dollars I might win it all back," he mused. "They can't possibly beat me all the time. I played as good cards as anybody. I wonder where I can get ten dollars. Everybody that knows me has gone home by now. Let me see. I know a fellow over at that drug store. But I've forgotten his name. Wonder if he'd let me have ten. I'll try him." He went into the drug store, saw the man standing behind the counter, walked up, reached over and shook hands with him.
"How's everything?" Bodney asked.
"How's everything?" Bodney asked.
"Oh, pretty fair. How is it with you?"
"All right. Say, old man, a college chum of mine, devilish good fellow, came in just now on a train and happened to catch me at the office—"
"Yes?" said the druggist, looking at him.
"Yes, and the fact is, he got here broke and has called on me to help him out. He's a devilish good fellow, and I don't exactly know what to do. Every one I know has gone home, and—could you let me have ten till tomorrow? You can count on it then."
"Oh, I guess so, but I'm rather short."