"How much d'you win?"

"Nothin'. Just a couple of hundred."

"Just a couple of hundred! You call that nothing?"

Phil grunted. The other men leaned forward in their interest to watch the
progress of the trial, all saving Joe Pollard, who sat with his elbows
braced in sprawling fashion on the table, at ease, his eyes twinkling
contentedly at the girl. Why she refused to examine the dice at once was
plain to Terry. If they proved to have been gummed, it would mean a gun
fight with the men at a battling temperature. In the morning when they
had cooled down, it might be a different matter. Terry watched her in
wonder. His idea of an efficient woman was based on Aunt Elizabeth, cold
of eye and brain, practical in methods on the ranch, keen with figures.
The efficiency of this slip of a girl was a different matter, a thing of
passion, of quick insight, of lightning guesses. He could see the play of
eager emotion in her face as she studied Phil Marvin. And how could she
do justice? Terry was baffled.

"How long you two been playing?" "About twenty minutes."

"Not more'n five!" cut in Slim hotly.

"Shut up, Slim!" she commanded. "I'm running this here game; Phil, how
many straight passes did you make?"

"Me? Oh, I dunno. Maybe--five."