the game wags on for a dozen hands.Dan is in hard luck; Cherokee on his part gets driven out each hand; an' Ellis an' the avaricious gent is doin' what little winnin's bein' done, between 'em.It's evident by this time, too, the avaricious gent's layin' for Cherokee.This oninstructed person looks on Cherokee as both imbecile an' onlucky to boot.
"The avaricious gent gets action suddener than he thinks.It's a jack pot.She goes by Ellis an' Dan; then Cherokee breaks her for the limit, two bloo chips, the par value whereof is ten dollars.
"'You breaks for ten?' says the avaricious gent, who's on Cherokee's left an' has the last say; 'well, I sees the break an' lifts it the limit.' An' the avaricious gent puts up four bloos.Ellis an' Dan, holdin' nothin' an' gettin' crafty, ducks.
"When the avaricious gent puts up his four bloo beans, Cherokee does somethin' no one ever sees him do before.He gets quer'lous an'
complainin', an' begins to fuss a lot over his bad luck.
"'What did you-all come in for?' he says to the avaricious gent, as peevish as a sick infant.'You sees me settin' yere in the muddiest of luck; can't you a-bear to let me win a pot? You ain't got no hand to come in on neither, an' I'll bet on it.You jest nacherally stacks in, relyin' on bluffin' me, or out-luckin' me on the draw.
Well, you can't bluff; I'll see this yere through,' says Cherokee, puttin' up two more sky-colored beans an' actin' like he's gettin'
heated, 'if it takes my last chip.As I do, however, jest to onmask you an' show my friends, as I says, that you ain't got a thing, I'll wager you two on the side, right now, that the pa'r of jacks Ibreaks on, is bigger than the hand on which you comes in an' makes that two-button tilt.' As he says this, Cherokee regyards the avaricious gent like he's plumb disgusted.
"It turns out, when Cherokee makes this yere long an' fretful break, the avaricious gent's holdin' a brace of kings.He's delighted with Cherokee's uproar, an' thinks how soft, an' what a case of open-work, he is.
"'You offers two bloos I can't beat a pa'r of jacks?' says the avaricious gent.Which he's plumb wolf, an' out for every drop of blood!
"'That's what I says,' replies Cherokee, some sullen.
"`I goes you,' says the avaricious gent, showin' a pa'r of kings.
"'Thar you be,' snarls Cherokee, with a howl like a sore-head dog, a-chuckin' the avaricious gent a couple of chips; 'thar you go ag'in! I can't beat nothin'; which I couldn't beat a drum! "The avaricious gent c'llects them two azure bones; after which he diskyards three, drawin' to his two kings, an' sets back to win the main pot.He shore concloodes it's a red letter round-up for him.
"`I reckons now that I knows what you has,' says Cherokee, displayin' a ace in a foolish way, 'I upholds this yere ace on the side an' asks for two kyards.'
"The avaricious gent adds a third king to his list an' feels like sunny weather.Cherokee picks up his hand after the draw, an' the avaricious gent, who's viewin' him sharp, notes that he looks a heap morbid.
"All at once Cherokee braces up mighty savage, like he's ugly an'
desp'rate about his bad luck.
