“If I only don’t fill the wrong way,” said Steve.  “Want to split the pot or save stakes with me, Judge?”

“That would be a foolish caper.  If I fill—­I mean,” the Judge corrected himself hastily—­“I mean, I’ve got the money won now, unless you draw out, and that’s a 52 to 1 shot.”

“Me, too,” said the dealer.  “We both got it won.  But I’ll save out a hundred with you, Steve.  That’ll pay your bills and take you home.”

“That’ll be nine hundred to draw cards for a chance at nine thousand and action on what I got left.  Faint heart never won a jackpot.  Here goes nothin’!” said Steve, pushing the money in.  “One from the top, when you get to me.  If I bet after the draw, you all needn’t call unless you’re a mind to.”

“Got that side money and pot straight?” queried the dealer lightly.  “All right?” He stretched out a long left arm and flipped the cards from the pack with a jerk of the wrist.  “Cards and spades? (I’m pat, myself, of course.) Cards to you?  None?  Certainly.  None to you, and one to you, one to you, none——­”

Steve’s card, spinning round as it came, turned over and lay face up on the table—­the three of hearts. (Laymen will please recall that, as already specified, a straight flush was, in this game, the Best.) As the dealer was sliding the next card off to replace it, Steve caught the thin glint of a red 8 on the corner.

With a motion inconceivably swift he was on his feet, his left hand over the pack.  “Hold on!” he cried.  “Look at this!” He made a motion as if to spread out the four cards he had retained, checked himself and glared, crouching.

“Sit down, Steve.  Don’t be a fool,” said the Stockman.  “You know you’ve no right to an exposed card, and you know he didn’t go to do it.”

Steve bunched his four cards carefully and laid them on the table, face down.  “Certainly not.  Oh, no!  He didn’t go to do it.  But he did it, just the same,” he said bitterly.  “Now, look here!  I don’t think there’s anything wrong—­not for a minute.  Nothing worse’n dumb, idiotic thumb-hand-sidedness.  I specially don’t want no one else to get mixed up in this,” with a glance at the Stockman.  “So you and the Judge needn’t feel called upon to act as seconds.  But I’m vexed.  I’m vexed just about nine thousand dollars’ worth, likely much more, if my hand hadn’t been tipped. Mira!” addressing the dealer, who sat quietly holding the pack in his left hand, his right resting on the table.  “I’ve a right to call for my card turned up, haven’t I?”

“Sure thing,” said the dealer equably.

“All right, then.  One bad turn deserves another.  But—­plenty cuidado! If any card but the eight of hearts turns up, protect yourself, or somebody’s widow’ll be in a position to collect life insurance, and I ain’t married!  Turn her over.”  He leaned lightly on the table with both hands.  Their eyes met in a level gaze.

“Let her zip!” said the Eminent Person.  Without hesitation he dropped the card over.  No slightest motion from either man, no relaxing of those interlocked eyes.  A catching of breaths—­