dealer.

"It's face up, Steve. You'd just as well show us. My boy, you ought to
wear a mustache," said the Judge, critically. "Your lips get pale and
give you away when you try to screw your courage up. Of course,
you've got a sweet, little, rosebud mouth; but you need a big, ox-horn
mustache in this vocation."

"Don't show it, Steve," advised the Stockman. "I judge his Honor's got
one of them same things his black self. You might both fill--and you
don't want to let him see how high yours is."

"If I only don't fill the wrong way," said Steve. "Want to split the
pot or save stakes with me, Judge?"

"That would be a foolish caper. If I fill--I mean," the Judge
corrected himself hastily--"I mean, I've got the money won now, unless
you draw out, and that's a 52 to 1 shot."

"Me, too," said the dealer. "We both got it won. But I'll save out a
hundred with you, Steve. That'll pay your bills and take you home."

"That'll be nine hundred to draw cards for a chance at nine thousand
and action on what I got left. Faint heart never won a jackpot. Here
goes nothin'!" said Steve, pushing the money in. "One from the top,
when you get to me. If I bet after the draw, you all needn't call
unless you're a mind to."

"Got that side money and pot straight?" queried the dealer lightly.
"All right?" He stretched out a long left arm and flipped the cards