Dud was sitting with his back to the wall. His attention was ostensibly on the game, but Bob knew he was waiting for developments.
Bandy sat next Dud. “Raise you once,” he snarled. His card-playing was like everything else he did, offensive by reason of the spirit back of it. He was a bad loser and a worse winner.
“And another blue,” said Hollister easily when it came his turn again. “Got to treat an ace in the hole with respect.”
The other two players dropped out, leaving only Bandy to contest the pot with Dud.
“Once more,” retorted the bow-legged puncher, shoving in chips.
“And again.”
“Hmp! Claim an ace in the hole, do you? Well, I’ll jes’ give it one more li’l’ kick.”
Hollister had showing a deuce of hearts, a trey of clubs, an ace of spades, and a four of hearts. He might have a five in the hole or an ace. Bandy had a pair of jacks in sight.
Dud called.
“You see it,” growled Bandy. “One pair.”