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Updated: June 23, 2025
Jacky watched Lablache's face in the dim starlight. It was ghastly. The whole figure of the man seemed to have shrunk. The wretched man stood free, and yet more surely a prisoner than any criminal in a condemned cell. The uncertain light of the stars showed only the dark expanse of the mire upon all sides.
If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes expressed it. "Eh? What? Guess you ain't well." The icy tones mocked at the distraught captive. The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool. "My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it. It is more than one night's work."
But then he knew the ways of the settlement. Dr. Abbot chanced to be standing in the doorway of the saloon. Bill's shack was little more than a hundred yards away. The doctor was about to step across to see if he were in, for the purpose of luring his friend into a game. Poker was not so plentiful with the doctor now since Bill had dropped out of Lablache's set.
He only seemed to realize with natural dread that Retief the terror of the countryside was in this, therefore the outcome must surely be the very worst. At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearest neighbor was not within ten miles of him.
He knew that "Poker" John's obstinacy was proof against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal. The rancher still remained silent.
Whatever his faults "Poker" John was a "dead game sport." He dashed a slip of paper into the pool. The keen eyes watching read "four thousand dollars" scrawled upon it. He had again raised to the limit. It was now Lablache's turn to accept or refuse the challenge. The onlookers were not so sure of the money-lender. Would he accept or not?
I should have discovered some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled and saw things." Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.
I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda. Hot lot isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too." A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. "Poker" John looked pained. "Guess you're right, Bill," said the rancher. "Hot very hot. I pity the poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him.
Lablache shrugged his shoulders, affectionately shuffling the cards the while. He kept his eyes averted. "What do the others say?" There was a challenge in Lablache's tone. Bunning-Ford flushed slightly at the cheek-bones. That peculiar pursing was at his lips. "Anything goes with me.
She knew that Lablache's store had been fired. "Good," she murmured, with a sigh of relief. "I guess Bill'll come right along now. I wish he'd come. They've been in that shack ten minutes or more. Why don't he come?" The glare of the fire fascinated her, and her eyes remained glued in the direction of it.
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