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Angel McCoy went straight back to the Eagle. There were men on the porch of the saloon, and he wondered at the number of them. Rather breathlessly he shoved his way into the place and looked around. There were at least thirty men in the saloon, and quite a number of them were crowded around the black-jack layout. There were no players at any of the other tables, because there were no dealers. The bartender was working at top speed.
Wonderingly Angel worked his way around to the black-jack table, and stopped against the wall. Old Rance McCoy and three other men were playing. Near the end of the table stood Chuckwalla Ike, puffing industriously on a frayed-out cigar, closely watching the dealer.