"Hmp! Go in with Sweeney and you'll have bad luck all right. _I'll
promise you that_. Better talk this over with me and put a deal
through." He rapped on the table to show that he too passed without
betting.

The curio dealer checked and entered a mild protest. "Is this a poker
game or a conversazione, gentlemen? It's stuck with Meldrum. I reckon
he's off in Lonesome Park gold-mining the way he's been listening."

Meldrum brought his attention back to the game and bet his pat hand.
Dave called. After a moment's hesitation Rutherford threw down his
cards.

"There's such a thing as pushing your luck too far," he commented.
"Now, take old man Crawford. He was mightily tickled when his brother
Jim left him the Frying Pan Ranch. But that wasn't good enough as it
stood. He had to try to better it by marrying the Swede hash-slinger
from Los Angeles. Later she fed him arsenic in his coffee. A man's a
fool to overplay his luck."

At the showdown Meldrum disclosed a four-card flush and the cattleman
three jacks.

As Dave raked in the pot he answered Rutherford casually. "Still, he
hadn't ought to underplay it either. The other fellow may be out on a
limb."

"Say, is it any of your business how I play my cards?" demanded
Meldrum, thrusting his chin toward Dingwell.