"Where's Ike?" he demanded. "Well, somebody call him--he's hiding out, asleep, upstairs." "Yes, wake him up!" shouted Rimrock boastfully. "Tell him Rimrock Jones is here." "Aw, pull out, you sucker!" blared L. W. in his ear, but Rimrock only shoved out his bets. "Ten on the ace," droned the anxious dealer, "the jack is coppered. All down?" He held up his hand and as the betting ceased he slowly pushed out the two cards. "Tray loses, ace wins!" he announced and Rimrock won again. Then he straightened up purposefully and looked about as he sorted his winnings into piles. "The whole works on the queen," he said to the dealer and a hush fell upon the crowd. "Where's Ike?" shrilled the dealer, but the boss was not to be found and he dealt, unwillingly, for a queen. But the fear was on him and his thin hands trembled; for Ike Bray was not the type of your frozen-faced gambler--he expected his dealers to win. The dealer shoved them out, and an oath slipped past his lips. "Queen wins," he quavered, "the bank is broke." And he turned the box on its side. A shout went up--the glad yell of the multitude--and Rimrock rose up grinning. "Who said to pull out?" he demanded arrogantly, looking about for the glowering L. W. "Huh, huh!" he chuckled, "quit your luck when you're winning? Quit your luck and your luck will quit you--the drinks for the house, barkeep!" He was standing at the bar, stuffing money into his pockets, when Ike Bray, the proprietor, appeared. Rimrock turned, all smiles, as he heard his voice on the stairs and lolled back against the bar. More than once in the past Bray had taken his roll but now it was his turn to laugh. "Lemme see," he remarked as he felt Bray's eyes upon him, "I wonder how much I win." He drew out the bills from his faded overalls and began laboriously to count them out into his hat. Ike Bray stopped and looked at him, a little, twisted man with his hair still rumpled from the bed. "Where's that dealer?" he shrilled in his high, complaining voice. "I'll kill the danged piker--that bank ain't broke yet--I got a big roll, right here!" He waved it in the air and came limping forward until he stood facing Rimrock Jones. "You think you broke me, do you?" he demanded insolently as Rimrock looked up from his count. "You can see for yourself," answered Rimrock contentedly, and held out his well-filled hat. "You're a piker!" yelled Bray. "You don't dare to come back at me. I'll play you one turn win or lose--for your pile!" A hundred voices rang out at once, giving Rimrock all kinds of advice, but L. W.'s rose above them all. "Don't you do it!" he roared. "He'll clean you, for a certainty!" But Rimrock's blue eyes were aflame. "All right, Mr. Man," he answered on the instant, and went over and sat down in his chair. "But bring me a new pack and shuffle 'em clean, and I'll do the cutting myself."