Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 37: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

EXCITEMENT TRAIL, nae es Naa 2 =~ es fee) 6 = ate ties 2 GY — 4, eS ere was well to heed. Many a man rejoiced in the possession of Rusty’s friendship; a few had learned to their cost the peril of rous- ing his enmity. Some thoughts of this order may have been in the gambler’s mind, as his shifty black eyes tried to fathom the face before him. Rusty Towers was either putting up a consummate bluff; or— But the facts hinging on that last were wholly impossible. “Fifty more!” said the gambler. Rusty promptly came back with another raise, which the gambler equaled. “Now I’m going to boost her just once more,” Towers said slowly, “ an even hun- dred iron men. And to show they ain't any hard feelings, I’m going to tell you what I got, which mebby you know and mebby you don’t—four kings, a right pret- ty little hand. “As I figure it, this deal ain’t quite gone according to your specifications. Un- less I’m wrong a heap, you got a high, straight flush in spades. Now a straight flush usually beats fours, but this here’s one time it don’t, the reason for that sad fact being that your straight flush con- tains the king of spades, which sure over- crowds the deck with rulers. Likely your idea was to slip me kings full of jacks, but my discard plumb ruined the layout.” Rusty paused to look fondly at his hand. ‘Excuse me for being so talkative,” he murmured apologetically. ‘‘ You got any- thing to add to my remarks?” The gambler’s body suddenly stiffened, and for a split second he seemed on the point of accepting the challenge. A glance at Rusty deterred him from such rashness. The cowboy sat in a deceptive attitude of limp indifference. But his pistol sheath—tied down by a thong of rawhide—was around at the front, in position for a lightning-swift draw. The steely glitter of his eyes proved that this relaxation was merely a pose—a trap for the unwary. To be caught cheating at poker meant gun play; gun play meant survival of the fittest; and Rusty Towers appeared dis- concertingly fit. “I drop,” said the gambler suddenly, and his nervous fingers hastily buried an unbeatable hand in the unused portion of the deck. “ You’ve got me beat.” “You said it, hombre,” was: Rusty’s grim comment. “I got you beat a heap. They’s more to poker than just cards. And here’s where I walk out on you. I’m through! When I indulge in poker it sure makes me restless to find the deck increasing in size. Adios! And thank you for a pleas- ant evening.”’ Swiftly he raked in the sizable collection of coins on the table, stowing them away about his person. Thereupon Rusty saun- COPMIEL OOO KS (E@)