It was as if he murmured an incantation for success.

The dice rolled out, winking in the light, spun over, and the owner of the gun stood with both hands braced against the edge of the table, and stared hopelessly down.
A moment before his pockets had sagged with a precious weight, and there had been a significant drag of the belt over his right hip.

Now both burdens were gone.
He looked up with a short laugh.
"I'm dry.

Who'll stake me to a drink ?" Pierre scooped up a dozen pieces of the gold.
"Here." The other drew back.

"You're very welcome to it.