page_170 < previous page page_170 next page > Page 170 entered the room carrying a bottle of whiskey from the bar. Crouse invited Cal to sit in. "Feeling lucky tonight, Bodein?" "That's just it," Cal said, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. "I'm feeling mighty lucky. In fact, I'm feeling so lucky, I just might like to double our limit." He took a fat roll of bills from his pocket and tossed it on the table beside the poker chips he had purchased on the way in. The others eyed the money and glanced hesitantly at each other. They knew Cal to be a shrewd poker player, but tonight he sounded cocky and he was drinking, something they hadn't seen before. "Suits me," Motts muttered. "Ante up." He tossed a ten-dollar chip onto the table. Motts, with his sharp nose and slicked-back hair, actually looks like the weasel he is, Cal thought. Crouse began their usual game of five-card stud. His jack was high and he checked his hole card. "This is going to cost you twenty," he said, adding two chips to the pot. "I'm in." Thornton fingered the gold chain across his portly middle. Moderate betting followed the deal around the table. Crouse won the first pot with a pair of jacks. Willard Motts, who took the second with a ten-high straight, gloated as he raked in the pile of chips. "Maybe you aren't so lucky tonight after all, Bodein." "The evening is young, gentlemen." Cal won an occasional pot but, as the game stretched toward midnight, had lost several hundred dollars before he began  < previous page page_170 next page >