“Got to play a bunch of college kids,” said Clinker. “We could beat them if every man on the team was jagged.”
“You no take little drink?” asked Crowfoot. “Then old Joe he have to drink-um it all. Grandson, Wind-that-roars-in-the-night, he think old Joe jigged up now. He lock old Joe in room so he get no more joy juice. Waugh! Shangowah have bottle hid under blanket. Grandson no know it.”
“He’s a sly old duck,” grinned Gentle Willie. “Really he’s a most amusing specimen.”
“But he’s interfering with the game,” complained Clinker.
“No interfere,” said Crowfoot. “Play some--take hand.”
“You don’t know anything about draw poker,” said South-paw.
“Not much,” agreed the Indian. “Mebbe play little bit.”
“Why, you haven’t got any money,” sneered Buzzsaw.
“Guess some more,” invited the ancient chief, as he promptly dug up a fistful of clinking coins. “Got heap much cash. Make heap good haul on prize fight in Reno.”
“Well, now, what do you know about that! Here’s an Injun loaded down with real money.”
The deportment of the four Outlaws underwent a sudden change.
“Really,” said Buzzsaw, “he looks like a nice, decent old brave. Perhaps we’d better let him into the game.”
The others agreed to this, and, a chair being placed, old Joe advanced unsteadily and seated himself between Stover and Pope.
“The limit is fifty cents, chief,” explained South-paw.
“Let’s make it a dollar,” urged Gentle Willie, success having given him confidence. “What do you say, Mr. Lo?”
“Make-um it anything,” grunted old Joe. “No limit suit me.”
“Well, he is a sport!” chuckled Clinker. “Tell you what, we’ll call it a dollar limit and all Jack pots. Understand that, Tecumseh?”
“Lemme see. Mebbe so,” answered old Joe. “You make little explanation.”
“It will be like taking candy from the baby,” whispered Clinker in Gentle Willie’s ear; while Buzzsaw explained to the Indian, who listened in a dull, half-comprehending way.
But when the game was resumed old Joe seemed to catch onto the run of it in a manner which surprised the others.
“No play much,” said the redskin. “Most forget how.”
He was permitted to win one or two small pots, which seemed so to elate him that he took another long pull at the bottle. His tongue grew thick and his eyes seemed to be glazy. At intervals he insisted on singing, and always the tune was a doleful dirge.