set at ten cents, and it was to be a regular penny ante
game.

There was some hesitation over the limit, which Bart named, winking
meaningly at one or two of the fellows who seemingly started to protest.

Surely there could not be much harm in such a light game! No one could
lose a great deal.

The first deal fell to Bart, and he shuffled the cards and tossed them
round in a way that betokened considerable dexterity and practice.

The boys were inclined to be jolly, but they were forced to restrain
their feelings as far as possible, for, although the rooms near them
were unoccupied, there was danger that they might be heard by some one
who would investigate, and their sentinel might not be able to give the
warning in time.

As Frank Merriwell watched the game, a peculiar light stole into his
eyes, and he was swayed by ill-repressed excitement. He was tempted to
get up and go away for all that anybody might say, but he did not go;
he lingered, and he was overcome by an irresistible longing--a desire
he could not govern. Finally, he exclaimed:

"What's the use for me to sit humped up here! Give me a hand, and let
me in."

CHAPTER IV.

A GAME OF BLUFF.

"That's the talk, old man!" exclaimed Harvey Dare, with satisfaction.
"Now you are beginning to appear natural."

The other boys were only too glad to get Frank into the game, and room
was quickly made for him, while he was given a hand.

The moment he decided to play, he seemed to throw off the air of
restraint that had been about him since he discovered the kind of
company Bart Hodge had brought him into. He became his free-and-easy,
jolly self, soon cracking a joke or two that set the boys laughing, and
beginning by taking the very first pot on the table after entering the
game.

"That's bad luck," he said, with a laugh. "The fellow who wins at the
start usually loses at the finish, so I may as well consider my fortune
yours. Some of you will become enormously wealthy in about fifteen
minutes, for I won't last longer than that if my luck turns."

He soon betrayed that he was familiar with the game, and luck ran to
him in a way that made the other boys look tired. He seemed able to
draw anything he wanted.

"Say!" gasped Sam Winslow, in admiration; "I shouldn't think you'd want
to play poker--oh, no! If I had your luck, I'd play poker as a
profession. Why, if you drew to a spike, you'd get a railroad! I
never saw anything like it."

W