Beside Ortega there was another man present who might
be inclined to accept a hazard, Tony Munoz, who conducted the rival
gambling house across the street and who was Ortega's much despised
son-in-law. Long ago Ortega and Tony had quarreled and when Tony had
run away with Eloisa, Ortega's pretty daughter, men said it was as much
to spite the old man as for love of the girl's snapping eyes. Tony
might play, if Ortega refused.
"One throw for the whole thing, Ortega?" challenged Kendric. "You and
me."
"Have I twenty thousand _pesos_ in my pocket?" jeered Ortega. "You
make me the big gringo bluff."
"Bluff? Call it then, man. That's what a bluff is for. And you don't
need the money in the pocket. This house is yours; your cellars are
always full of expensive liquors; there is money in your till and
something in your safe yet, I'll bet my hat. Put up the whole thing
against my wad and I'll shake you for it."
Plainly Ortega was tempted. And why not? There lay on the green
table, winking up alluringly at him, twenty thousand dollars. His, if
simply a little cube with numbers on it turned in proper fashion.
Twenty thousand dollars! He licked his fat pendulous lips. And, to
further tempt him, he estimated that his entire holding here, bar
fixtures, tables, wines and cash, were worth not above fifteen
thousand. But then, this was all that he had in the world and though
he craved further gains until the craving was acute like a pain, still
he clung avidly to the power and the prestige and the luxury that were
his as owner of la Casa Grande.
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