"Come here!" Stark snapped his command, and Runnion threw down his
cards.

"I'm right in the middle of a winning streak. You'll break my luck,
Ben."

But the other only frowned impatiently, and, drawing the reluctant
gambler aside, began to talk rapidly to him, almost within ear-shot
of Poleon, who watched them, idly wondering what Stark had to say
that could make Runnion start and act so queerly. Well, it was their
affair. They made a bad pair to draw to. He knew that Runnion was
the saloon-keeper's lieutenant and obeyed implicitly his senior's
commands. He could distinguish nothing they said, nor was he at all
curious until a knot of noisy men crowded up to the bar, and,
forcing the two back nearer to the table where he sat, his sharp
ears caught these words from Runnion's lips:

"Not with me! She'd never go with me!" and Stark's reply:

"She'll go where I send her, and with anybody I tell her to."

The Frenchman lost what followed, for a newly dealt hand required
study. He scanned his cards, and tossed them face up before the
dealer; then he overheard Runnion say:

"It's the only one in camp. He might sell it if you offered him
enough." At this Stark called one of the men at the bar aside, and
the three began to dicker.