Mellish couldn’t stand it any longer. He retired to one of the inner rooms. The first deal with the new pack turned in Pony’s favor and he seemed to feel that his luck had changed, but the next deal went against him and also the one following.
“It’s your shuffle,” said Rowell, pushing the cards towards his opponent. Bert did not touch the cards, but smiled across at the gambler.
“What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you shuffle?”
“I don’t have to,” said Bert, quietly, “I’ve won five.”
Rowell drew his hand across his perspiring brow and stared at the man across the table. Then he seemed to pull himself together.
“So you have,” he said, “I hadn’t noticed it. Excuse me. I guess I’ll go now.”
“Sit where you are and let us have a game for something more modest. I don’t care about these splurges myself and I don’t suppose you do— now.”
“Thanks, no. I told you this was my last game. As to the splurge, if I had the money I would willingly try it again. So long.”
When Mellish came in and saw that the game was over he asked where Pony was.
“He knew when he had enough, I guess,” answered Bert. “He’s gone home.”