“Some of you eat, then, while the others get cleaned out.”
“Thet's it—cleaned out!” ejaculated Budd, meanly. “You seem to be sure, Kells. An' I guess I'll keep shady of thet game.”
“That's twice for you, Budd,” flashed the bandit leader. “Beware of the third time!”
“Hyar, fellers, cut the cards fer who sets in an' who sets out,” called Blicky, and he slapped a deck of cards upon the table.
With grim eagerness, as if drawing lots against fate, the bandits bent over and drew cards. Budd, Braverman, and Beady Jones were the ones excluded from the game.
“Beady, you fellows unpack those horses and turn them loose. And bring the stuff inside,” said Kells.
Budd showed a surly disregard, but the other two bandits got up willingly and went out.
Then the game began, with only Cleve standing, looking on. The bandits were mostly silent; they moved their hands, and occasionally bent forward. It was every man against his neighbor. Gulden seemed implacably indifferent and played like a machine. Blicky sat eager and excited, under a spell. Jesse Smith was a slow, cool, shrewed gambler. Bossert and Pike, two ruffians almost unknown to Joan, appeared carried away by their opportunity. And Kells began to wear that strange, rapt, weak expression that gambling gave him.
Presently Beady Jones and Braverman bustled in, carrying the packs. Then Budd jumped up and ran to them. He returned to the table, carrying a demijohn, which he banged upon the table.
“Whisky!” exclaimed Kells. “Take that away. We can't drink and gamble.”