The dealer counted out Rice's stack and Steele again placed his bet. Again it was two hundred dollars, laid on number five. Rice hastily accompanied it with his own bet of seven dollars. The ball, in its characteristic indecision, came to rest on number four. The dealer drew in the two hundred and seven dollars.
"Good sign to lose at the beginnin'," grunted Rice with apparent satisfaction.
"He's lost four hundred in two shots," whispered one of the onlookers to a newcomer.
And again Steele lost, again it was two hundred dollars risked against overpowering chance. This time he had bet on thirteen and Rice had shoved out a stack representing five dollars to go into the quick fingers of the dealer. And again, two hundred lost by Steele, his last three dollars gone from Bill Rice.
"Wait a minute, Bill," commanded Steele, as Rice was drawing back with a shrug. "I'll stake you in a minute."
Eight hundred dollars gone while the ball had circled four times. And yet, had he won at any one of those hazards, then would he have broken the bank. Now, taking the same long chance, he placed the last two hundred of the first thousand dollars on the table, picking his old favourite number five to win. While the hasting ball held the result in doubt he turned his head quickly. Joe Embry had come closer and now was watching him with frankly unhidden interest, a contemptuous smile in his eyes. Steele turned back to the table and watched the ball come to rest marking number twelve.
