"Are you gettin' cold feet, Smithy?" There was the suspicion of a sneer in the satellite's voice. "Did you say you liked to make or break on a hand?" "I thought you liked a swift game," gibed Tinhorn. The taunt settled it. "I can play as swift as most--and then, some." He shoved a pile of chips into the centre of the table with both hands. "Come again!" Tinhorn did come again; and again, and again, and again. He bet with the confidence of knowledge--with a confidence that put the fear in Smith's heart. But he could not, and he would not, quit now. His jaw was set as he pulled off banknote after banknote in the tense silence which had fallen. When the last of them fluttered to the table he asked: "What you got?" For answer, Tinhorn turned over a third queen. Encircling the pile of money and chips with his arm, he swept them toward him. Smith rose and kicked the chair out of his way. "That's the end of my rope," he said, with a hard laugh. "I'm done." "Have a drink," urged Tinhorn. "Not to-day," he answered shortly. The crowd parted to let him pass. Untying his horse, he sprang into the saddle, and not much more than an hour from the time he had arrived he rode down the main street, past the bank where he was to leave his roll, flat broke. At the end of the street he turned in his saddle and looked behind him. His satellites stood in the bar-room door, loungers loafed on the curbstone, a woman or two drifted into the General Merchandise Store. The Postmaster was eying him idly through his fly-specked window, and a group of boys, who had been drawing pictures with their bare toes in the deep white dust of the street, scowled after him because his horse's feet had spoiled their work. His advent had left no more impression than the tiny whirlwind in its erratic and momentary flurry. The money for which he had sweat blood was gone. Mechanically he jambed his hands into his empty pockets. "Hell!" he said bitterly. "Hell!" XVII SUSIE HUMBLES HERSELF TO SMITH Smith's return to the ranch was awaited with keen interest by several persons, though for different reasons. Bear Chief wanted to learn the whereabouts of his race-horse, and seemed to find small comfort in Ralston's assurance that the proper authorities had been notified and that every effort would be made to locate the stolen ponies. Dora was troubled that Smith's educational progress should have come to such an abrupt stop; and she felt not a little hurt that he should disappear for such a length of time without having told her of his going, and disappointed in him, also, that he would permit anything to interfere with the improvement of his mind. Susie's impatience for his return increased daily. Her chagrin over being outwitted by Smith was almost comical. She considered it a reflection upon her own intelligence, and tears of mortification came to her eyes each time she discussed it with Ralston. He urged her to be patient, and tried to comfort her by saying: