"Ha! Ha!" barked Bow-Wow Baker. "D—n if they ain’t both makin’ th’ same sign. Must belong to th’ same lodge." Chesty Sutton dug him in the ribs with an elbow. "Shut up!" he hissed, never taking his eyes from the game. Dave passed and Buck opened. Dave drew three cards to two high ones. Buck stood pat. Dave scanned his hand; whatever suspicion he might have had, vanished: he had never seen the man who could deal him a straight in that fashion. He backed his hand steadily until Buck’s assurance and his own depleted cash made him pause, and he called. Buck solemnly laid down four aces. Four!—and Dave would have taken his oath the diamond ace had been on the bottom of the deck before the deal—and Buck had not drawn cards. "They ’re good," said Dave shortly, dropping his hand into the discard. "If you ’re goin’ to stay around here, Cheyenne, I ’ll get revenge to-morrer." He started to rise. "Nope, I guess not, Bud. I never play yore kind of a game with th’ same man twice." Dave froze in his position. "Meanin’?" he asked, coldly. "I don’t like th’ way you deal," was the frank answer. "D—n you!" cursed Dave. His hand flew to his gun—and stopped. Over the edge of the table a forty-five was threatening with steady mouth. "Don’t do it, Bud," warned Buck. Dave’s hand slowly moved forward. "A two-gun man, eh?" he sneered. "Shore. Never bet on th’ gun on th’ table, Bud. You got a lot to learn. Hit her up or you ’ll be late—an’ down where I came from it’s unhealthy to look through a winder without first makin’ a noise." "Yore argument is good. But I reckon it ’d be a good bet as how you ’ll learn somethin’ in Twin River you ain’t never learned nowhere else." Dave sauntered carelessly to the front door. "You ain’t never too old to learn," agreed Buck, sententiously. The front door closed quietly after Dave and half a minute later his pony’s hoofs were heard pounding along the trail that led toward Big Moose. "Cheyenne, put her there! I like yore style!" Chesty Sutton, late puncher for the Circle X, shoved his hand under Buck’s nose with unmistakable friendliness. "_I_ like th’ way _you_ play, all right." "Me, too," chimed in Bow-Wow. "Dave Owens has got th’ lickin’ of his life. An’ between you an’ I, Cheyenne, I ain’t never seed Dave get licked afore—not reg’lar." The chorus of congratulations that followed was so sincere that Buck’s heart warmed toward the company. Chesty secured attention by pointing his finger at Buck and wagging it impressively. "But you hear me, Cheyenne," he warned. "Dave ain’t no quitter. He ’s got it agin’ you an’ he ’s h—l on th’ shoot. I ain’t never heerd of his killin’ nobody but he ’s right handy spoilin’ yore aim. Ain’t he, Bow-Wow?" "Look a-here. How often have I told you? You sez so. He is. Don’t allus leave it to me." Bow-Wow’s tone was indignant as he rubbed his right arm reflectively.