"
"Mebbe this is a case where a hunch after the draw is better'n
the hunch before," Kearns remarked; "wherefore duty says, 'Lift
her, Jack, lift her,' and so I lift her another five thousand."
Daylight leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the kerosene
lamps while he computed aloud.
"I was in nine thousand before the draw, and I saw and raised
eleven thousand--that makes thirty. I'm only good for ten more."
He leaned forward and looked at Kearns. "So I call that ten
thousand."
"You can raise if you want," Kearns answered. "Your dogs are
good for five thousand in this game."
"Nary dawg. You-all can win my dust and dirt, but nary one of my
dawgs. I just call."
MacDonald considered for a long time. No one moved or whispered.
Not a muscle was relaxed on the part of the onlookers. Not the
weight of a body shifted from one leg to the other. It was a
sacred silence. Only could be heard the roaring draft of the
huge stove, and from without, muffled by the log-walls, the
howling of dogs. It was not every night that high stakes were
played on the Yukon, and for that matter, this was the highest in
the history of the country. The saloon-keeper finally spoke.
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