"Eh?" he exclaimed, in surprised questioning. She pushed past him and walked to the door. "You won’t be up at all," she repeated, facing him. "You ’ve lost your pile and sent mine after it in a game you don’t play any better than a four-year-old. I warned you not to play. Now you take the consequences." The door slammed after her. "Boom" silently opened the door into the hall and vanished. The big man looked around, dazed. No one met his eye. Dave was sliding the cards noiselessly through his fingers and the rest appeared fascinated by the motion. The big man turned to the bartender. "Slick, gimme a bottle," he demanded. Slick complied without a word and he bore it in his hand to the table behind the door, where he sat drinking alone, staring out morosely at the gathering darkness. Buck dropped into the vacated chair and laid his roll on the table. "The time to set in at a two-hand game of draw," he remarked with easy good nature, "is when th’ other feller is feelin’ all flushed up with winnin’. If you like to add my pile to that load you got a’ready, I ’m on." He beamed pleasantly on the surrounding faces and a cynical smile played for a moment on the thin lips of the man facing him. "Sure," he agreed, and pushed the cards across the table. "Bar-keep, set ’em up," said Buck, flicking a bill behind him. Slick became busy at once and Buck, in a matter-of-fact manner, placed his gun on the table at his left hand and picked up the pack. "Yes," he went on with vacuous cheerfulness, "the best man with a full deck I ever saw told me that. We crossed trails down in Cheyenne. They was shore some terrors in that li’l town, but he was th’ one original." He shook his head in reminiscent wonder, and raised his glass. "Here ’s to a growin’ pile, Bud," and nodding to the others, who responded with indistinct murmurs, the drink was drained in the customary gulp. "One more, bar-keep, before we start her," he demanded. "I never drink when I ’m a-playin’." Here he leaned forward and raised his voice. "Friend, you over there by th’ winder, yo ’re not drinkin’." The big man slowly turned his head and looked at Buck with blood-shot eyes, then at the extra glass on his table. "Here ’s better luck ner mine, friend—not wishin’ you no harm, Dave," and he added the drink to the generous quantity he had already consumed. Buck waved his hand in acknowledgment, then he smiled again on his opponent. "Same game you was playin’, Bud?" he asked, genially. "Suits me," was the laconic reply. Buck raised the second drink. "Here’s to Tex Ewalt, th’ man who showed me th’ error of my ways." The tail of his eye was on Dave.