Deadwood.

"What is its money value?" he asked, familiarizing his tone. "Good, I
suppose."

"Yes, perfectly good, and cheap at two hundred," was the unhesitating
reply. "Do you lack funds, stranger?"

"Oh! no. I am three hundred ahead of this cuss yet, and--"

"You'd better quit where you are!" said the other, decisively. "You'll
lose the next round, mark my word."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Redburn, who had begun to show symptoms of
recklessness. "I'll take my chances. Here, you gamin, I'll cover the
watch with two hundred dollars."

Without more ado the stakes were planked, the cards dealt, and the
game began.

The youth, whom we will call Ned Harris, was not idle.

He took the revolvers from the table, changed his position so that his
face was just in the opposite direction of what it had been, and
commenced to pare his finger nails. The fingers were as white and soft
as any girl's. In his hand he also held a strangely-angled little box,
the sides of which were mirror-glass. Looking at his finger-nails he
also looked into the mirror, which gave a complete view of the
card-sharp, as he sat at the table.