" said Smith, as he pulled a chair from the pine
table. "Draw is good enough for kids and dudes, but stud's the only play
for men."

"Now you've talked!" declared the admiring throng.

"Keep 'em movin', Tinhorn! Deal 'em out fast."

"Smithy, you're a cyclone!"

A hundred of Smith's money went for chips.

"Dough is jest like mud to some fellers," said a voice enviously.

"I likes a game where you make or break on a hand. I've lost thousands
while you could spit, me--Smith!"

"It's like a chinook in winter just to see you in town agin, Smithy."

The "hole" card was not promising--it was only a six-spot; but, backing
his luck, Smith bet high on it. Tinhorn came back at him strong. He wanted
Smith's money, and he wanted it quick.

Smith's next card was a jack, and he bet three times its value. When
Tinhorn dealt him another jack he bought more chips and backed his pair,
for Tinhorn, as yet, had none in sight. The next turn showed up a queen
for Tinhorn and a three-spot for Smith. And they bet and raised, and
raised again. On the last turn Smith drew another three and Tinhorn
another queen. With two pairs in sight, Smith had him beaten. When Smith
bet, Tinhorn raised him. Was Tinhorn bluffing or did he have another queen
in the "hole"? Smith believed he was bluffing, but there was an equal
chance that he was not. While he hesitated, the other watched him like a
hungry mountain lion.

"Are you gettin' cold feet, Smithy?" There was the suspicion of a sneer in
the satellite's voice. "Did you say you liked to make or break on a
hand?"

"I thought you liked a swift game," gibed Tinhorn.

The taunt settled it.

"I can play as swift as most--and then, some." He shoved a pile of chips
into the centre of the table with both hands. "Come again!"

Tinhorn did come again; and again, and again, and again. He bet with the
confidence of knowledge--with a confidence that put the fear in Smith's
heart. But he could not, and he would not, quit now. His jaw was set as he
pulled off banknote after banknote in the tense silence which had fallen.

When the last of them fluttered to the table he asked:

"What you got?"

For answer, Tinhorn turned over a third queen. Encircling the pile of
money and chips with his arm, he swept them toward him.

Smith rose and kicked the chair out of his way.

"That's the end of my rope," he said, with a hard laugh. "I'm done."

"Have a drink," urged Tinhorn.

"Not to-day," he answered sho