"I'll make it thirty--for a beginning."
There was a momentary silence, for the lad had staked heavily and lost
of late, but one or two more bets were made. Then the cards were
turned up, and the lad smiled fatuously as he took up his winnings.
"Now I'll let you see," he said. "This time we'll make it fifty."
He won twice more in succession, and the men closed in about the table,
while, for the dealer knew when to strike, the glasses went around
again, and in the growing interest nobody quite noticed who paid for
the refreshment. Then, while the dollars began to trickle in, the lad
flung a bill for a hundred down.
"Go on," he said, a trifle huskily. "To-night you can't beat me!"
Once more he won, and just then two men came quietly into the room.
One of them signed to the hotel keeper.
"What's going on? The boys seem kind of keen," he said.
The other man laughed a little. "Ferris has struck a streak of luck,
but I wouldn't be very sorry if you got him away, Mr. Courthorne. He
has had as much as he can carry already, and I don't want anybody broke
up in my house. The boys can look out for themselves, but the
Silverdale kid has been losing a good deal lately, and he doesn't know
when to stop."
Winston glanced at his companion, who nodded. "The young fool!" he
said.
They crossed towards the table in time to see the lad take up his
winnings again, and Winston laid his hand quietly upon his shoulder.
"Come along and have a drink while you give the rest a show," he said.
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