“Quite right, sir, you shall have them.  But how you tremble!  I wouldn’t have so poor a nerve as yours for all the money in the world, my dear Senator.  You act as though there were four hundred acres of niggers at stake, as Mr. Jones would say!”

“Go on!  You don’t know what there is at stake.”

“So, now.  You have your four cards.  For myself—­though you are so excited you wouldn’t notice it if I did not call your attention to it—­I take but three.  You are an infant, man.  See that you be not delivered into the hands of the enemy.”

They looked now each into his renewed hand of five cards.  Dunwody swept a stack of money toward the center of the table.  “A thousand dollars against one look from her eye!”

“My dear sir,” rejoined the other calmly, “you are raised to the extent of two glances—­one from each eye.”

“Another thousand for the touch of her glove.”

“I come back.  You shall have a pair.”

“A thousand more to hear the sound of her step—­another thousand for one smile!”

Carlisle’s voice trembled, but he forced himself under control.  “My dear sir, you shall have all you wish!  I am sure if she could see you now she herself would be disposed to smile.  You do not yet understand that woman.  But now, suppose that the betting has gone far enough?  What cards have you?  For myself, I discover that I have drawn four kings.  I trust that you have four aces of your own.”

There was sincerity in this wish, but Dunwody answered gloomily:  “You gave me three tens and a pair of fives, with what I held.  You have won the first round.”

He dashed a hand, and cleared the square of matted hair from his forehead, which now was beaded.  Red, florid, full-blooded, balked in his eagerness, he looked as savage as some denizen of the ancient forest, in pursuit as reckless, as ill-suited with ill-fortune.

“My deal,” said he, at length, in a voice half a growl.  And later, “How many?”

“I shall, if you please, require but one card,” was the quiet answer.  Dunwody himself required two.  They sat narrowly eying each other, although there was in this close duel small advantage for either except in the run of the cards themselves.

“It is perhaps needless for us to waste time, since I can not divide my stakes,” smiled the younger gentleman.

Again with a half growl, Dunwody threw down his cards, face upward.  His teeth were clenched, all his muscles set, all his attitude strained, tense.

“You have won, my dear Senator!  I failed to improve my four cards, which, it is true, were of one color, but which I regret to say still remain of the one color and of no better company!”

“It is even!” exclaimed Dunwody.  “Come!”

The cards went around once more, and once more the officer asked for a single card.  Once again he lost.

Dunwody drew back with a deep sigh.  “Look!” he said, “of my three cards, two were what I wanted—­aces, aces, man!—­four of them!  By every token, I have won.  It’s fate!”