“Let me tell you one thing: I love May Doyle, and I mean to try to win her for my wife. It is true I have only just met her, but I fell in love at first sight. Now, do you expect to persuade me to keep out of this trouble in order to save my own skin?” “No, I don’t,” admitted the border king, smiling cheerfully at his friend. “I wish you luck. You couldn’t find a better girl than May Doyle if you searched all through the West. “But let me give you a word of advice about Ketchum. He is a notorious bully, gambler, and duelist. He has killed several men in duels and has the reputation of being one of the best pistol shots in this section. If you meet him again don’t let him draw you into a quarrel.” An ominous bending of the rancher’s dark brows was his only reply. Just then May and her father came out to call the two men in to eat the roughly cooked dinner, which was the best that this frontier hostelry had to offer, and Mainwaring instantly forgot all about the bully in the pleasant society of the girl he loved. But later in the evening the hot-headed young fellow met Ketchum again. May had gone to bed, after sitting out on the veranda with him for some time, and he was wandering about the saloon disconsolately, when he happened to stroll into the card room at the back of the bar. It was full of men, sitting around little tables and playing poker, écarté, and other games. Mainwaring sat down by the open window to smoke a cigar before going to bed, and presently, happening to turn around, he saw that Ketchum was playing poker at a small table near him with another of the men staying at the saloon. Obeying the instinct of keen observation which had been bred in him by his life on the ranch, the young man began to watch the game with close attention. Ketchum did not seem to like this. He was still sore, perhaps, at the memory of the meeting earlier in the evening, for he shot angry glances at Mainwaring now and then. The other player was having a run of the very worst kind of luck. After winning a trifle, the cards went steadily against him. He lost once--twice--thrice--four times running. He was just about to put down a fifth stake when Mainwaring jumped up from his chair and stopped him. “Foul play!” he shouted. “Throw up your hand, sir! This game must not go on! You are being cheated!” Instantly an excited group of spectators came pressing around them. Ketchum rose to his feet, trembling with passion, and asked fiercely: “Whom do you accuse of foul play, you young whelp?” “You--you card sharper and thief!” cried the young rancher. Tearing the cards from the bully’s hand, he dashed them in his face with such violence that the blood started from his cut cheek. The two men sprang at one another’s throats, and in a moment they would have rolled down on the floor, perhaps not to rise again, but the other men standing around closed in and dragged them apart by main force.