Duane, realizing that he was tolerated there, received in careless friendly spirit by this terrible class of outcasts, experienced a feeling of revulsion that amounted almost to horror.
Was his being there not an ugly dream?
What had he in common with such ruffians?
Then in a flash of memory came the painful proof--he was a criminal in sight of Texas law; he, too, was an outcast.
For the moment Duane was wrapped up in painful reflections; but Euchre's heavy hand, clapping with a warning hold on his arm, brought him back to outside things.
The hum of voices, the clink of coin, the loud laughter had ceased.
There was a silence that manifestly had followed some unusual word or action sufficient to still the room.

It was broken by a harsh curse and the scrape of a bench on the floor.

Some man had risen.
"You stacked the cards, you--!" "Say that twice," another voice replied, so different in its cool, ominous tone from the other.
"I'll say it twice," returned the first gamester, in hot haste.

"I'll say it three times.

I'll whistle it.