Johnny Challan was explaining to his companions exactly how the game was played.
“It's a case of keep your eye on the card, I should think,” said big Tim Nolan. “If you got a quick enough eye to see him flip the card around, you ought to be able to pick her.”
“That's what this sport said,” agreed Challan. “'Your eye agin my hand,' says he.”
“Well, I'd like to take a try at her,” mused Tim.
But at this point Newmark broke into the discussion. “Have you a pack of cards?” he asked in his dry, incisive manner.
Somebody rummaged in a turkey and produced the remains of an old deck.
“I don't believe this is a full deck,” said he, “and I think they's part of two decks in it.”
“I only want three,” assured Newmark, reaching his hand for the pack.
The men crowded around close, those in front squatting, those behind looking over their shoulders.
Newmark cleared a cracker-box of drying socks and drew it to him.