their parts, raising each other without pause, and again there was total
silence in the cabin. Every face bent to the table, watching the turn
repeat its circle with obstinate increase, until new chips and more new
chips had been brought to keep on with, and the heap in the middle had
mounted high in the hundreds, while in front of Toussaint lay his knife
and a match-box--pledges of two more horses which he had staked. He had
drawn three cards, while the others took two, except Cutler, who had a
pair of kings again, and drawing three, picked up two more. Kelley
dropped out, remarking he had bet more than his hand was worth, which was
true, and Loomis followed him. Their persistence had surprised Toussaint
a little. He had not given every one suspicious hands: Cutler's four
kings were enough. He bet once more, was raised by the scout, called, and
threw down his four aces.

"That beats me," said Cutler, quietly, and his hand moved under his
frock-coat, as the half-breed, eyeing the central pile of counters in
triumph, closed his fingers over it. They were dashed off by Kelley, who
looked expectantly across at Cutler, and seeing the scout's face wither
into sudden old age, cried out, "For God's sake, Jarvis, where's your
gun?" Kelley sprang for the yellow curtain, and reeled backward at the
shot of Toussaint. His arm thrashed along the window-sill as he fell,
sweeping over the lamp, and flaring channels of oil ran over his body and
spread on the ground. But these could no longer hurt him. The half-breed
had leaped outside the cabin, enraged that Cutler should have got out
during the moment he had been dealing with Kelley. The scout was groping
for his ivory-handled pistol off in the darkness. He found it, and
hurried to the little window at a second shot he heard inside. Loomis,
beating the rising flame away, had seized the pistol from the shelf, and
aimlessly fired into the night at Toussaint. He fired again, running to
the door from the scorching heat. Cutler got round the house to save him