“I tell yuh they carry millions in that safe,” said Chuck.
“Aw, go to sleep,” said Slim. “We hit the grit at daylight, and we’ll be a long time on a horse.”
CHAPTER IX—AT THE CIRCLE SPADE
Chuckwalla Ike was up a little after daylight. He had a headache and a dark-brown taste in his mouth, which caused his long mustaches to assume a forlorn angle. He spilled the hot cake batter on the floor and cut himself in slicing the bacon.
Monty Adams and Steve Winchell had not been to town the night before, for the simple reason that it had not been payday on the Circle Spade, and because they were both broke. They joked with Chuckwalla, who was in no mood to joke, and ate their breakfast.
“Did the old man get drunk?” asked Steve, mopping off his plate with a hunk of bread.
“Not to my knowledge. I lost him early in the game. But I got drunk ’f anybody stops to ask yuh. But I’m all through. Feller’s a fool to drink.”
“Was anybody playin’ the games at the Eagle?” queried Monty.
“Everybody. Rance won—gosh, I dunno how much. Why, him and Angel dealt first ace for five thousand, and Rance won. First card off the deck was an ace. Jim Langley dealt ’em. And I seen Rance win eight one-hundred-dollar bets, hand-runnin’, on the black-jack. He busted the game. Fact. And then he set in on the stud game and won thirteen hundred on one hand. Had an ace in the hole and three more in sight, while Angel held a ten-full on queens.”
“Holy cats! And did he quit with all that money?”