The Story of the Foss River Ranch Part 45

"We are not likely to be interrupted," he said wheezily, "but it never does to chance anything. Shall we cover the window? A light in this room is unusual--"

"Yes, let us cover it." "Poker" John chafed at the delay. "No one is likely to come this way, though."

Lablache looked about for something which would answer his purpose.

There was nothing handy. He drew out his great bandanna and tried it. It exactly covered the window. So he secured it. It would serve to darken the light to any one who might chance to be within sight of the shed. He returned to his seat. He bulged over it as he sat down, and its legs creaked ominously.

"I have brought three packs of cards," he said, laying them upon the table.

"So have I."

"Poker" John looked directly into the other's bilious eyes.

"Ah--then we have six packs."

"Yes--six."

"Whose shall we--" Lablache began.

"We'll cut for it. Ace low. Low wins."

The money-lender smiled at the rancher's eagerness. The two men cut in silence. Lablache cut a "three"; "Poker" John, a "queen."

"We will use your cards, John." The money-lender's face expressed an unctuous benignity.

The rancher was surprised, and his tell-tale cheek twitched uncomfortably.

"For deal," said Lablache, stripping one of John's packs and pa.s.sing it to his companion. The rancher shuffled and cut--Lablache cut. The deal went to the latter.

"We want something to score on," the money-lender said. "My memorandum pad--"

"We'll have nothing on the table, please." John had been warned.

Lablache shrugged and smiled. He seemed to imply that the precaution was unnecessary. "Poker" John was in desperate earnest.

"A piece of chalk--on the wall." The rancher produced the chalk and set it on the floor close by the wall and returned to his seat.

Lablache shuffled clumsily. His fingers seemed too gross to handle cards. And yet he could shuffle well, and his fingers were, in reality, most sensitive. John Allandale looked on eagerly. The money-lender, contrary to his custom, dealt swiftly--so swiftly that the bleared eyes of his opponent could not follow his movements.

Both men picked up their cards. The old instincts of poker were not so p.r.o.nounced in the rancher as they used to be. Doubtless the game he was now playing did not need such mask-like impa.s.sivity of expression as an ordinary game would. After all, the pot opened, it merely became a question of who held the best hand. There would be no betting. John's eyes lighted up as he glanced at the index numerals. He held two "Jacks."

"Can you?" Lablache's husky voice rasped in the stillness.

"Yes."

The dealer eyed his opponent for a second. His face was that of a graven image.

"How many?"

"Three."

The money-lender pa.s.sed three cards across the table. Then he discarded two cards from his own hand and drew two more.

"What have you got?" he asked, with a grim pursing of his sagging lips.

"Two pairs. Jacks up."

Lablache laid his own cards on the table, spreading them out face upwards for the rancher to see. He held three "twos."

"One to you," said John Allandale; and he went and chalked the score upon the wall.

There was something very business-like about these two men when they played cards. And possibly it was only natural. The quiet way in which they played implied the deadly earnestness of their game. Their surroundings, too, were impressive when a.s.sociated with the secrecy of their doings.

Each man meant to win, and in both were all the baser pa.s.sions fully aroused. Neither would spare the other, each would do his utmost.

Lablache was sure. John was consumed with a deadly nervousness. But John Allandale at cards was the soul of honor. Lablache was confident in his superior manipulation--not play--of cards. He knew that, bar accidents, he must win. The mystery of being able to deal himself "three of a kind"

and even better was no mystery to him. He preferred his usual method--the method of "reflection," as he called it; but in the game he was now playing such a method would be useless for obvious reasons.

First of all, knowing his opponent's cards would only be of advantage where betting was to ensue. Now he needed the clumsier, if more sure, method of dealing himself a hand. And he did not hesitate to adopt it.

"Poker" John dealt The pot was not opened. Lablache again dealt. Still the hand pa.s.sed without the pot being opened. The next time John dealt Lablache opened the pot and was promptly beaten. He drew to two queens and missed. John drew to a pair of sevens and got a third. The game was one all. After this Lablache won three pots in succession and the game stood four--one, in favor of the money-lender.

The old rancher's face more than indicated the state of the game. His features were gray and drawn. Already he saw his girl married to the man opposite to him. For an instant his weakness led him to think of refusing to play further--to defy Lablache and bid him do his worst.

Then he remembered that the girl herself had insisted that he must see the game through--besides, he might yet win. He forced his thoughts to the coming hand. He was to deal.

The deal, as far as he was concerned, was successful, His spirits rose.

Four--two.

Lablache took up the cards to deal. John was watching as though his life depended upon what he saw. Lablache's clumsy shuffle annoyed him. The lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest idea that the old man suspected him. He pa.s.sed the cards to be cut. The rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly halved. Lablache had prepared for this.

The hand was dealt, and the money-lender won with three aces, all of which he had drawn in a five-card draw. He had discarded a pair of nines to make the heavy draw. It was clumsy, but he had been forced to it. The position of the aces in the pack he had known, and--well, he meant to win.

Five--two.

The clumsiness of that deal was too palpable. Old John suspected, but held his tongue. His anger rose, and the drawn face flushed with the suddenness of lightning. He was in a dangerous mood. Lablache saw the flush, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. He pa.s.sed the cards to the other, and then, involuntarily, his hand dropped into the right-hand pocket of his coat. It came in contact with his revolver--and stayed there.

The next hand pa.s.sed without the pot being opened--and the next.

Lablache was a little cautious. The next deal resulted in favor of the rancher.

Five--three.

Lablache again took the cards. This time he meant to get his hand in the deal. At that moment the money-lender would have given a cool thousand had a bottle of whisky been on the table. He had not calculated on John being sober. He shuffled deliberately and offered the pack to be cut.

John cut in the same careless manner, but this time he did it purposely.

Lablache picked up the bottom half of the cut. There was a terrible silence in the room, and a deadly purpose was expressed in "Poker"

John's eyes.

The money-lender began to deal. In an instant John was on his feet and lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which Lablache had dealt to himself.

"The ace of clubs," shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of clubs.