"Never seen him before," whispered back Flem after a covert scrutiny of the latest arrival. "Fine!" commented Fox, speaking with rapidity, but still with low-toned caution. "Jest to test it, let's see if that sucker'll fall. Here"--he shoved the dice cup into Gash Turtle's grasp--"you be playin' with the bones, sorter careless. You kin have the first bet, because I've already took a likin' to you. Then, if he's willin' to go a second time, I'll take him on fur a few simoleons." The arch plotter fell into an attitude of elaborate indifference. "Go ahead, Flem; you toll him in." Given a guarantee of winning, and who among us is not a born gamester? Gash Tuttle's cheeks flushed with sporting blood as he grabbed for the cup. All his corpuscles turned to red and white chips--red ones mostly. As for the barkeeper, he beyond doubt had the making of a born conspirator in him. He took the cue instantly. "Sorry, friend," he called out, "but the grub works is closed down temporary. Anything I kin do fur you?" "Well," said the stranger, edging over, "I did want a fried-aig sandwich, but I might change my mind. Got any cold lager on tap?" "Join us," invited Fox; "we're jest fixin' to have one. Make it beer all round," he ordered the barkeeper without waiting for the newcomer's answer. Beer all round it was. Gash Tuttle, too eager for gore to more than sip his, toyed with the dice, rolling them out and scooping them up again. "Want to shake for the next round, anybody?" innocently inquired the squint-eyed person, observing this byplay. "The next round's on the house," announced Flem, obeying a wink of almost audible emphasis from Fox. "This here gent thinks he's some hand with the bones," explained Fox, addressing the stranger and flirting a thumb toward Gash Tuttle. "He was sayin' jest as you come in the door yonder that he could let anybody else roll three dice, and then he could tell, without lookin' even, whut the tops and bottoms would add up to?" "Huh?" grunted the squinty-eyed man. "Has he got any money in his clothes that says he kin do that? Where I come frum, money talks." He eyed Gash Tuttle truculently, as though daring him to be game. "My money talks too!" said Mr. Tuttle with nervous alacrity. He felt in an inner vest pocket, producing a modest packet of bills. All eyes were focused on it. "That's the stuff!" said Fox with mounting enthusiasm. "How much are you two gents goin' to bet one another? Make it fur real money--that is, if you're both game!" "If he don't touch the dice at all I'll bet him fur his whole roll," said the impetuous newcomer. "That's fair enough, I reckin," said Fox. "Tell you whut--to make it absolutely fair I'll turn the dice over myself and Flem'll hold the stakes. Then there can't be no kick comin' from nobody whatsoever, kin there?" He faced their prospective prey. "How strong are you?" he demanded, almost sneeringly. "How much are you willin' to put up against my pardner here?"