The name of Tex must have shocked him like a bucket of ice water but he did not betray it by so much as the flicker of an eyelid. Ewalt and he had been friends in the Panhandle and both had escaped the fate of Trendley and his crowd more by luck than merit. Buck knew Dave’s history in Texas, related by Ewalt himself, who had illustrated the tell-tale flourish with which Dave introduced a crooked play; but he did not know that Dave Owens was Black Jack, returned after years of wandering, to the place of his nativity.[#] [#] The boy and girl history of David Jones (Black Jack) and his sister, Veia (called Jill) was well known to some of the old timers who went to Montana in the first gold rush and stayed there. It was difficult to get them to tell it and one was sorry to have heard it, if successful. Buck shuffled the cards slowly and then with a careful exaggeration of the flourish, dealt the hand in a swift shower of dropping units. A sigh of appreciation escaped the observant group and this time Buck got results: at sight of the exaggerated flourish an involuntary contraction of the muscles hardened the deceptively boyish form and face of the younger man and the black eyes stared a challenging question at the smiling gray ones opposite before dropping to the cards he had unconsciously gathered up. Luck smiled on Buck from the start. He meant that it should. Always a good player, his acquaintance with Tex, who had taught him all he knew of crooked plays, had made him an apt pupil in the school in which his slippery opponent was a master. With everything coming his way Buck was quite comfortable. Sooner or later the other would force the fighting. Time enough to sit up and take notice when the flourishing danger signal appeared. It came at last. Dave leaned forward and spoke. "Cheyenne, how’d jack-pots strike yer? I got ter hit th’ trail before six an’ it’s pretty nigh time to feed." "Shore!" assented Buck, heartily. The pot grew in a manner scandalous to watch. "Double the ante," softly suggested Dave. "Shore," agreed Buck, with genial alacrity. "Double her ag’in." "Double she is," was Buck’s agreeable response. Pass after pass, and Slick stretched out over the bar and craned his neck. At last, with a graceful flourish a good hand fell to Buck, a suspiciously good hand, while Dave’s thin lips were twisted into a one-sided smile. Buck looked at him reproachfully. "Bud, you should oughter o’ knowed better ’n that. I got six cards." The smile faded from Dave’s face and he stared at the cards like a man who sees ghosts. The stare rose slowly to Buck’s face, but no one could possibly suspect such grieved reproach to be mere duplicity. It was too ridiculous—only Dave knew quite well that he had not dealt six cards. "Funny," he said. "Funny how a man ’ll make mistakes." "I forgive you this once, but don’t do it no more," and Buck shuffled the cards, executed a particularly outrageous flourish, and dealt.