A preliminary drink was indispensable; and,
served in two glasses and a cracked toothbrush mug
-- Mr. Ottinger elected to imbibe his "straight"
from the bottle -- it was drunk with mutual assurances
of tender regard. "Happy days," the woman
pronounced. Only three chairs were available, and
after some shuffling, appropriate references to "honest
and plain" country accommodations, the table
was ranged by a bed on which Em -- "Call me Em,"
she had invited Gordon, "let's be real homelike," --
seated herself.

The smaller man ostentatiously broke the seal
from a new pack of cards, dexterously spreading
them across the table. His hands, Gordon saw,
were extraordinarily supple, and emanated a sickly
odor of glycerine. His companion's were huge and
misshapen, but they, too, were surprisingly deft,
quick.

"What'll it be?" Jake demanded; "Jackpots;
stud; straight draw--"

"Hell, let's throw cold hands," Mr. Ottinger interrupted,
"chop the trimmings. We're here for
the stuff, ain't we?" He was immediately reprehended
for his brusque, unsociable manner.

"He's got the idea, though," Gordon approved;
"we're here for the stuff." It was finally arranged
that poker hands should be dealt, a draw allowed,
and the cards shown, the highest cards to take the

[[59]]

p058 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p059w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p060

v?