good. Cherokee most likely don't better by the draw. If he does,
it's nothin' worse than aces up, or a triangle of jacks. That's the
way this sordid sport lines up Cherokee's hand. "'Merely to show you
the error of your ways,' he remarks, 'an' to teach you to lead a
'happier an' a better life, I sees your five hundred an' raises her
back the same.' An' the avaricious gent counts off a thousand
dollars. 'Thar,' he says when it's up, 'now go as far as you like.
Make it a ceilin' play if the sperit moves you.'

"'I sees it an' lifts her for five hundred more,' retorts Cherokee.
An' he shoves his dust to the center. "Cherokee's peevishness is
gone, an' his fault-findin' is over. He's turned as confident an'
easy as a old shoe.

"It strikes the avaricious gent as alarmin', this quick switch in
the way Cherokee feels. It's cl'ar, as one looks in his face, that
them trio of kings ain't no sech monstrosities as they was. He ain't
half so shore they wins. After lookin' a while he says, an' his
tones shows he's plumb doobious:

"'That last raise over-sizes me.'

"`That's it!' groans Cherokee, like his contempt for all mankind is
comin' back. 'By the time I gets a decent hand every sport at the
table's broke. What show do I have! However, I pinches down to meet
your poverty. Put up what stuff you has.'

"The avaricious gent slowly gets up his last peso; he's out on a
limb, an' he somehow begins to feel it. When the money's up,
Cherokee throws down three aces an' a pa'r of nines, an' rakes the