There was no limit in the stud game. Chips ran according to color, from twenty-five cents to ten dollars. The cowboys played a cautious game. A forty-dollar pay check would not last long in a game of that kind unless the player either played in luck or used good judgment.
Old Rance won consistently. Hundred after hundred went to swell the roll of bills in his pocket. The rest of the players merely piked along, causing the dealer little concern. “Rance is a thousand to the good,” announced a cowboy, who had come from the black-jack layout to look at the poker game.
Angel bit the corner of his lip and blinked at his cards. He could ill afford to lose a thousand, and he knew the old man was on a betting spree. Ten minutes later the dealer came and spoke softly to him:
“Eighteen hundred to the bad, Angel; and I’m out of money.”
“Close the game,” said Angel harshly.
A poker-player drew out of the game, and old Rance took his place. He threw a hundred-dollar bill across to Angel.
“Table stakes, Angel?” he asked.
“Table stakes,” growled Angel, meaning that a player could bet only the amount of money in front of him.
The old man drew out his enormous roll of money and placed it beside his chips. Angel eyed the roll closely. There were thousands in that roll. He did not know that old Rance had drawn every cent of money he had on deposit in the bank; a total of seventy-five hundred.
Old Rance’s first open card was the ace of spades. He looked at it and laughed across the table at Angel. It was the best card in sight, and the old man threw ten yellow chips—one hundred dollars’ worth—into the pot.