"I'll bet a hundred," he cried, "and see you."
He triumphantly threw down a straight.
"There, now," he snarled, "beat that, you stinking Malamute."
There was a perceptible pause. I felt sorry for the Halfbreed. He could not afford to lose all that money, but his face showed no shade of emotion. He threw down his cards and there arose from us all a roar of incredulous surprise.
For the Halfbreed had thrown down a royal flush in diamonds. Marks rose. He was now livid with passion.
"You cheating swine," he cried; "you crooked devil!"
Quickly he struck the other on the face, a blow that drew blood. I thought for a moment the Halfbreed would return the blow. Into his eyes there came a look of cold and deadly fury. But, no! quickly bending down, he scooped up the money and left the tent.
We stared at each other.
"Marvellous luck!" said the Prodigal.
"Marvellous hell!" shouted Marks. "Don't tell me it's luck. He's a sharper, a dirty thief. But I'll get even. He's got to fight now. He'll fight with guns and I'll kill the son of a dog."