"You give Jim, there, a receipt for a thousand, and he'll pass it out," Iron Jaw told Texas.
Jim the croupier took from the safe behind him rolls of twenty-dollar gold pieces and stood them up in Texas's pile. He removed a few coins, saying, "The pot is right, gentlemen; two thousand apiece."
"Hold on," Snaky Dick cried; "it ain't called yet—I draw cards."
"Not till you see the bet and the raise," Carney objected. "Nobody whispers his way into this game; it's for blood."
"Give me a cheque book, Snaggle Tooth," Snaky pleaded.
"Flimsies don't go," Carney objected.
"Nothin' but the coin weighs in agin me," Texas agreed; "put up the dough-boys or keep out."
Snaky was in despair. Here was just the softest spot in all the world, and without the cash he couldn't get in.
"Will you cash my cheque?" he asked Iron Jaw.
"If Baker'll O.K. it I figger you must have the stuff in his bank—it'll be good enough for me," Iron Jaw replied.