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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"


Suddenly he forced the fight to a finish. The opportunity came in a
jack-pot which Hawes had opened. The betting began with a cool
thousand. Then Hampton's turn came. Without drawing, his cards yet
lying face downward before him on the board, his calm features as
immovable as the Sphinx, he quietly pushed his whole accumulated pile
to the centre, named the sum, and leaned back in his chair, his eyes
cold, impassive. Hawes threw down his hand, wiping his streaming face
with his handkerchief; Willis counted his remaining roll, hesitated,
looked again at the faces of his cards, flung aside two, drawing to
fill, and called loudly for a show-down, his eyes protruding. Slavin,
cursing fiercely under his red beard, having drawn one card, his
perplexed face instantly brightening as he glanced at it, went back
into his hip pocket for every cent he had, and added his profane demand
for a chance at the money.
A fortune rested on the table, a fortune the ownership of which was to
be decided in a single moment, and by the movement of a hand. The
crowd swayed eagerly forward, their heads craned over to see more
clearly, their breathing hushed.


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