"Me for that same lady," accompanied MacDonald's markers for two
thousand and for an additional thousand-dollar raise.

It was at this stage that the players sat up and knew beyond
peradventure that big hands were out. Though their features
showed nothing, each man was beginning unconsciously to tense.
Each man strove to appear his natural self, and each natural self
was different. Hal Campbell affected his customary cautiousness.

French Louis betrayed interest. MacDonald retained his
whole-souled benevolence, though it seemed to take on a slightly
exaggerated tone. Kearns was coolly dispassionate and
noncommittal, while Elam Harnish appeared as quizzical and
jocular as ever. Eleven thousand dollars were already in the
pot, and the markers were heaped in a confused pile in the centre
of the table.

"I ain't go no more markers," Kearns remarked plaintively. "We'd
best begin I.O.U.'s."

"Glad you're going to stay," was MacDonald's cordial response.

"I ain't stayed yet. I've got a thousand in already. How's it
stand now?"

"It'll cost you three thousand for a look in, but nobody will
stop you from raising."

"Raise--hell. You must think I got a pat like yourself."
Kearns looked at his hand. "But I'll tell you what I'll do, Mac.