playin' _fer_?"

"Twenty-five franc limit," responded Cooley authoritatively. "Double for
jacks. Play two hours and settle when we quit."

Mellin leaned back in his chair. "You call that high?" he asked, with a
sniff of contempt. "Why not double it?"

The fat man hammered the table with his fist delightedly. "'He's game,'
she says. 'He's the gamest little Indian ever come down the big road!'
she says. Was she right? What? Maybe she wasn't! We'll double it before
very long, my boy; this'll do to start on. There." He distributed
some of the small towers of ivory counters and made a memorandum in a
notebook. "There's four hundred apiece."

"That all?" inquired Mellin, whereupon Mr. Pedlow uproariously repeated
Madame de Vaurigard's alleged tribute.

As the game began, the intelligent-looking maid appeared from the
dining-room, bearing bottles of whisky and soda, and these she deposited
upon small tables at the convenience of the players, so that at the
conclusion of the first encounter in the gentle tournament there was
material for a toast to the gallant who had won it.

"Here's to the gamest Indian of us all," proposed the fat man. "Did you
notice him call me with a pair of tens? And me queen-high!"

Mellin drained a deep glass in honor of himself. "On my soul, Chan'
Pedlow, I think you're the bes' fellow in the whole world," he said
gratefully. "Only trouble with you--you don't want to play high enough."