“Oh, yes; but do you still wish to play with me?”
“Does I?”
“Yes.”
“Why, pard, I is in fer a game o’ anything with you.”
“Then let us begin.”
The words were so quietly uttered, the look of the scout was so calm, that it checked the devil gaining the ascendency of the man for a minute.
“All right, pard, I is ready.”
The cards were shuffled, cut for the deal, and Buffalo Bill won. Then the game was begun.
All who watched the two men, and they were all who could crowd about them, saw that the scout was as cool as an icicle, showing not the slightest dread of what any one who was near felt sure must end in a deadly encounter between the two players.
Buffalo Bill serenely smoked his cigar, his face remaining impassive, and yet those who watched him closely saw that his eyes were rather upon his adversary than his cards.