The
atmosphere about the table became tense and feverish, and gradually most
of the others in the room gathered about the players and watched the
progress of the game.
It was the newcomer's deal. The pack had been cut, and he was dealing out
the cards, when suddenly one of the players leaped to his feet.
"Foul play," he shouted. "You dealt that last card from the bottom of the
pack." And at the same instant he threw over the table and reached for
his gun.
But quick as he was, the stranger was quicker. Like a flash his revolver
spoke, and his opponent fell to the floor. But the others now had started
shooting and there was a fusillade. The spectators dropped behind
anything that promised shelter and the bartender went out of sight under
the counter. Only after the revolvers had been emptied did the firing
cease.
When the smoke lifted, three were lying on the littered floor, one dead
and two desperately wounded. The stranger was not to be seen, but the
pounding of hoofs outside told of his escape. He had gone, but not till
Bert had seen one thing that registered itself indelibly on his mind.
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