from the pack with a jerk of the wrist. "Cards and spades? (I'm pat,
myself, of course.) Cards to you? None? Certainly. None to you, and
one to you, one to you, none----"

Steve's card, spinning round as it came, turned over and lay face up
on the table--the three of hearts. (Laymen will please recall that, as
already specified, a straight flush was, in this game, the Best.) As
the dealer was sliding the next card off to replace it, Steve caught
the thin glint of a red 8 on the corner.

With a motion inconceivably swift he was on his feet, his left hand
over the pack. "Hold on!" he cried. "Look at this!" He made a motion
as if to spread out the four cards he had retained, checked himself
and glared, crouching.

"Sit down, Steve. Don't be a fool," said the Stockman. "You know
you've no right to an exposed card, and you know he didn't go to do
it."

Steve bunched his four cards carefully and laid them on the table,
face down. "Certainly not. Oh, no! He didn't go to do it. But he did
it, just the same," he said bitterly. "Now, look here! I don't think
there's anything wrong--not for a minute. Nothing worse'n dumb,
idiotic thumb-hand-sidedness. I specially don't want no one else to
get mixed up in this," with a glance at the Stockman. "So you and the
Judge needn't feel called upon to act as seconds. But I'm vexed. I'm
vexed just about nine thousand dollars' worth, likely much more, if
my hand hadn't been tipped. _Mira_!" addressing the dealer, who sat
quietly holding the pack in his left hand, his right resting on the
table. "I've a right to _call_ for my card turned up, haven't I?"