scarce. There is small mercy in a game of poker hard played, but
at least one of his opponents caught some such signal of distress.
Dunwody looked up from his own last hand.

"Don't leave us just yet, friend," he said. "You may draw on me
for all you like, if you care to continue. We shall see that you
get a ticket back home. No man can ask more than that!"

"I have a thousand acres of cotton land 'n a hunnerd niggers
waitin' for me to git home," said the Honorable William Jones, "an'
by hockey, I raise the ante to twenty dollars right hyer! Are you
all comin' in?"

"I have at least that much left in my locker," answered Judge
Clayton. "What do you say to doubling that?"

"Suit me," said Dunwody briefly; they nodded assent all around, but
the younger man ventured:

"Suppose I sit with you for one jack-pot, gentlemen. The hour is
growing late for me, and I must plead other duties. When a man is
both busy and broke, it is time for him to consider."

"No, no," expostulated the Honorable William Jones, who long since
had forgotten his rule regarding one drink a day. "No, no, not
broke, and not busy! Not at all!"

"I don't know," said Dunwody. "Suppose we make it one more
jack-pot all around?" They agreed to this. It was Judge Clayton's
deal.