Arizona Round-Up — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

Chapter Six HE GAME AT THE Silver Pound seemed to have started less than an hour before, but it was gaining momentum. Gardner and Massey, the two professionals, played silently, a nod often substituting for a word. They were immaculately dressed; expensively so, And the diamonds they wore were not of the large, flashy type sported by tinhorns in a run of good luck. No doubt about it, Tex thought, they were good. Big timers. The four other men sat with their cards close against their chests, one with the short stub of a cigar clenched between his teeth. This was Tom Biggers, mine and mill owner. One of the gamblers—Gardner—looked up at Tex, a slight frown creasing his face. He wanted no watchers at any time. Sometimes it was unavoidable, but this man with the pistol at his hip was alone. “Open game?” Tex asked. casually. Gardner’s pale eyes flicked appraisingly over the other in a single glance. He nodded curtly. “It’s not a game for cowpunch- ers, he said in clipped reply. “So I noticed,” Tex said; and to the others: “Any objections, gentlemen?” . Biggers rolled his cigar to the other side of his mouth and said through clenched teeth, “Set in, stranger. It’s open.” Tex pulled up a chair and sat down. The bank man looked at him. Gardner. “How many?” the gambler asked. “About twenty whites and some reds and blues,” Tex replied, reaching inside his shirt. The gambler'’s poker face lost enough of its blankness to let a faint, satisfied sneer come over it as he slid out twenty whites, ten reds and ten blues. This was going to be good. | “Hundred on the whites, two hundred on the reds, five on the blues, cowboy. Nine thousand.” | | 27 cComicoooks.com