The Come on

Steve bunched his four cards carefully and laid them on the table, face down. Certainly not. Oh, no! He didn’t go to do it. But he did it, just the same, he said bitterly. Now, look here! I don’t think there’s anything wrong–not for a minute. Nothing worse'n dumb, idiotic thumb-hand-sidedness. I specially don’t want no one else to get mixed up in this, with a glance at the Stockman. So you and the Judge needn’t feel called upon to act as seconds. But I’m vexed. I’m vexed just about nine thousand dollars’ worth, likely much more, if my hand hadn’t been tipped. Mira! addressing the dealer, who sat quietly holding the pack in his left hand, his right resting on the table. I’ve a right to call for my card turned up, haven’t I?