Steve’s fingers tightened on his cards, and Middleton discarded two, showing that he held three of a kind.
“I’ve got you beat,” he said.
“Beat? I tell you, you don’t know the game,” said Steve, airily. He coolly discarded his pair.
“I don’t? I’ll bet you a hundred dollars, I’ve got you beat.”
Steve picked up two cards. “I’ll see you and raise you,” said he. “I bet you five hundred against your whitefoot horse you haven’t.”
“Done,” said Middleton.
“Keep your horse, boy,” said Steve. “I was the best poker player in my brigade.” He leaned over to put his cards down. But Middleton was game and was ahead of him.
“It’s a bet,” he said, laying his hand on the table. There was a sigh from the others: he had three aces.
Steve laid his beside them, and there was a shout. He had drawn a flush.
“Now I’ll buy the horse back from you, if you wish it?” said Middleton.