The Sheriff's Son
Smith, unless you want to ride at your own funeral."
Meldrum drew from the man's pocket a pack of cards.
"I thought so. They 've been switching decks on us. The one we 're playing with is marked. Run your finger over the ace of clubs there, Hal. … How about it?"
"Pin-pricked," announced Rutherford. "And they 've garnered in most of the chips. What do you think?"
"That I 'll beat both their heads off," cut in Meldrum, purple with rage.
"Not necessary, Dan," vetoed Dingwell. "We 'll shear the wolves. Each of you help yourself to chips equal to the amount you have lost. … Now, Mr. Smith, you and your partner will dig up one hundred and ninety-three dollars for these gentlemen."
"Why?" sputtered Smith. "It's all a frame-up. We 've been playing a straight game. But say we have n't. They have got their chips back. Let them cash in to the house. What more do you want?"
"One hundred and ninety-three dollars. I thought I mentioned that already. You tried to rob these men of that amount, but you
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