"You must forget I heard all about how you tried to bushwhack me from the second floor of the Starlight," Racey put in, gently.
"Aw, that's a damn lie," bluffed Bull. "A damn lie. All a mistake. You heard wrong."
Racey shook a disapproving head. "When it's after the draw," he said, "and you ain't got a thing in yore hand, and the other gents have everything and know they have everything to yore nothing, she's poor poker to make a bluff. Whatsa use, sport, whatsa use?"
"I dunno what yo're talkin' about," persisted Bull.
"Aw right, let it go at that. Who put you up to bushwhack me?"
"Nun-nobody," hesitated Bull.
"Yore own idea, huh?"
Bull spat disgustedly on the grass. He had seen the trap after it had been sprung.
"You shore can't play poker," smiled Racey, his eyes shining with pleasure under the wide brim of his hat. "I—The starlight's pretty bright remember."
Bull's sudden movement came to naught. He settled back, his eyes furtively busy.