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The indifference did not fade out of his eyes. "I've been with the Lunar Film Company. Before that I was riding for the Lone Star cattle outfit," answered Yeager. The younger Mexican showed a flicker of interest. "The Lunar Film Company? Do you know a man named Harrison, señor?" "Yes." "And a boy named Pheelip Seymour?" "I've just met him. He doesn't work for the company."
Should he stand pat on his straight or discard the heart and draw to his straight flush? Culvera's play had shown great strength and would probably beat the pat hand. The lad took a chance and called for one card. Culvera drew two. He left them lying on the table while he discarded leisurely. "You're all in, Pheelip. It's a showdown. What you got?" Philip had drawn the six of clubs.
The range-rider knew without being told that this hand had been dealt from a cold deck for the express purpose of cleaning out the boy. From the tenseness of the lithe body, which had become, as it were, a coiled spring, he knew that the lad's suspicions were stirring to life. The greedy little eyes of Culvera fastened on the boy. He made his first mistake. "How much you play back, Pheelip?"
The world has been rinnin' after a red rag of a Frenchman; but he was nothing to William the Silent. When Pheelip of Spain sent his Duke of Alva to squelch those Dutchmen they joost squelched him like a rotten egg aye, they did." I asked him why he didn't visit America, and told him that I had observed his name registered at Ambleside, on Lake Windermere.
I hae occupied the position o' tutor to Mr Forbes; for, as Sir Pheelip Sidney says in a letter to his brither Rob, wha was efterwards Yerl o' Leicester upo' the demise o' Robert Dudley, 'Ye may get wiser men nor yersel' to converse wi' ye and instruck ye, in ane o' twa ways by muckle ootlay or muckle humility. Noo, that laddie was ane o' the finest naturs I ever cam' across, and his humility jist made it a pleesur to tak' chairge o' 'm baith mentally and morally.
A man don't play threes so strong as that." Culvera still smiled blandly, though his eyes were very watchful. "Me, I have what you call a hunch, Pheelip." Yeager took two steps forward. "You bet he did. Cold deck, kid. The other one is in his right-hand coat pocket." The suavity went out of Culvera's face as a light does from a blown candle.
Culvera turned to his chief. "It is this Pheelip that shot Mendoza, he and another Gringo." Pasquale nodded, still watching Yeager. "Know any military tactics?" he asked. "None except to hit the other fellow first and hit him hardest." "And to hit him when he isn't looking. Those three things are all there is to know about war those three, and to keep your men fat."
He spread his hand with a sweeping gesture. "All blue." The Mexican shrugged. "Beats me unless I helped." He showed three eights, then faced the two cards he had drawn. The first was a king of diamonds, the second the fourth eight. "Hard luck, Pheelip," he said, and all his teeth flashed in a friendly smile as he opened both arms to rake in the chips.
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