Are you-all with me?
Surge along, then.

Surge along.
"Hold on there, Davis," he called to the faro-dealer, who had shoved his chair back from the table.

"I'm going you one flutter to see whether you-all drink with me or we-all drink with you." Pulling a heavy sack of gold-dust from his coat pocket, he dropped it on the HIGH CARD.
"Fifty," he said.
The faro-dealer slipped two cards.

The high card won.

He scribbled the amount on a pad, and the weigher at the bar balanced fifty dollars' worth of dust in the gold-scales and poured it into Burning Daylight's sack.