cause I thought you-all ought to know,'
says the tenderfoot. 'I tell you-all I seen him deal hisself four
aces.'

"'Say, mister,' says the player, 'you-all'd better get outa here.
You-all don't understand the game. It's his deal, ain't it?'"

The laughter that greeted his story was hollow and perfunctory, but
Daylight appeared not to notice it.

"Your story has some meaning, I suppose," Dowsett said pointedly.

Daylight looked at him innocently and did not reply. He turned
jovially to Nathaniel Letton.

"Fire away," he said. "Give us an approximation of our winning. As I
said before, a million out one way or the other won't matter, it's
bound to be such an almighty big winning." By this time Letton was
stiffened by the attitude Dowsett had taken, and his answer was prompt
and definite.

"I fear you are under a misapprehension, Mr. Harnish. There are no
winnings to be divided with you. Now don't get excited, I beg of you.
I have but to press this button..."

Far from excited, Daylight had all the seeming of being stunned. He
felt absently in his vest pocket for a match, lighted it, and
discovered that he had no cigarette. The three men watched him with
the tense closeness of cats. Now that it had come, they knew that they
had a nasty few minutes before them.

"Do you-all mind saying that over again?" Daylight said. "Seems to me
I ain't got it just exactly right. You-all said...?"

He hung with painful expectancy on Nathaniel Letton's utterance.

"I said you were under a misapprehension, Mr. Harnish, that was all.
You have been stock gambling, and you have been hard hit. But neither
Ward Valley, nor I, nor my associates, feel that we owe you anything."

Daylight pointed at the heap of receipts and stubs on the table.

"That-all represents ten million twenty-seven thousand and forty-two
dollars and sixty-eight cents, hard cash. Ain't it good for anything
here?"

Letton smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Daylight looked at Dowsett and murmured:--

"I guess that story of mine had some meaning, after all." He laughed
in a sickly fashion. "It was your deal all right, and you-all dole
them right, too. Well, I ain't kicking. I'm like the player in that
poker game. It was your deal, and you-all had a right to do your best.
And you done it--cleaned me out slicker'n a whistle."

He gazed at the heap on the table with an air of stupefaction.

"And that-all ain't worth the paper it's written on.