sand dollars dwindled to half that, to a quarter,
and even less....

Her Majesty, it seemed, was a damn poor poker player.

The ante had been raised by this time.

Her Majesty was losing one hundred dollars a hand, even before the
betting began. But she showed not the slightest indication to stop.

"We've got to get up in the morning," Malone announced to no one in
particular, when he thought he couldn't possibly stand another half-
hour of the game.

"So we do," Her Majesty said with a little regretful sigh. "Very well,
then. Just one more hand."

"It's a shame to lose you," the cowboy said to her, quite sincerely.
He had been winning steadily ever since Her Majesty sat down, and
Malone thought that the man should, by this time, be awfully grateful
to the United States Government. Somehow, he doubted that this
gratitude existed.

Malone wondered if she should be allowed to stay for one more hand.
There was, he estimated, about two thousand dollars in front of her.
Then he wondered how he was going to stop her.

The cards were dealt.

The first man said quietly: "Open for two hundred."

Malone looked at the Queen's hand. It contained the Ace, King, Queen
and ten of clubs--and the seven of spades.

_Oh, no._ He thought. _She couldn't possibly be thinking of filling a
flush._

He knew perfectly well that she was.

The second man said: "And raise two hundred."

The Queen equably tossed (counting, Malone thought, the ante) five
hundred into the pot.

The cowboy muttered to himself for a second, and finally shoved in his
money.

"I think I'll raise it another five hundred," the Queen said calmly.

Malone wanted to die of shock.

Unfortunately, he remained alive and watching. He saw the last man,
after some debate internal, shove a total of one thousand dollars into
the pot.

"Cards?" said the dealer. The first man said: "One."

It was too much to hope for, Malone thought. If that first man were
trying to fill a straight or a flush, maybe he wouldn't make it. And
maybe something final would happen to all the other players. But that
was the only way he could see for Her Majesty to win.

The card was dealt. The second man stood pat and Malone's green tinge
became obvious to the veriest dunce. The cowboy, on Her Majesty's
right, asked for a card, received it and sat back without a trace of
expression.

The Queen said: "I'll try one for size." She'd picked up poker lingo,
and the basic rules of the