"How was the last bottle, Soda-Water?" he asked. "You didn't have to change your name with Prohibition, did you? Nor your habits." "Main thing that's changed is the quality of yore booze--an' the price, neither fo' the better," said Sam carelessly. "We ain't drinkin' ter-night, Jim," said Sandy. "Dropped in to hev a li'l' talk with you an' then take a buck at the tiger." Plimsoll's eyes glittered. "Said talk bein' private," continued Sandy. Plimsoll threw a glance at the man who had been posted for lookout and he left with a curious gaze that took in Sandy's guns. "Sorry I was away from the ranch, time you called," said Sandy, sitting with one leg thrown over the corner of the table. "Hope to be there nex' time. I hear you-all claim to have an interest in Pat Casey's minin' locations, his interest now bein' his daughter's?" "That any of your business?" "I aim to make it my business," replied Sandy. For a moment the two men fought a pitched battle with their eyes. It was a warfare that Sandy Bourke was an expert in. The steel of his glance often saved him the lead in his cartridges. Jim Plimsoll was no fool to wage uneven contest. He fancied he would have the advantage over Sandy later, if the pair really meant to play faro--in his place. "I grubstaked him for the Hopeful-Dynamite discovery," he said. "Got any papeh showin' that? Witnessed." "You know as well as I do that papers ain't often drawn on grubstaking contracts. A man's word is considered good." "Pat Casey's would have been, I reckon," said Sandy. "I've got witnesses." "Well, we'll let that matteh slide till the mines make a showin'. Meantime, there's talk goin' on in this town concernin' the gel an' her livin' at Three Star. I look to you to contradict that so't of gossip, Plimsoll, from now on." Plimsoll flushed angrily. "Who in hell do you think you are?" he demanded. "Who appointed you censor to any man's speech?" "A _man's_ speech don't have to be censored, Plimsoll. An' I reckon you know who I am." "You come here looking for trouble, with me?" "I never hunt trouble, Jim. If I can't help buttin' into it, like a man might ride into a rattlesnake in the mesquite, I aim to handle it. Ef I ever got into real trouble, an' it resembled you, I'd make you climb so fast, Plimsoll, you'd wish you had horns on yore knees an' eyebrows." Plimsoll forced a laugh. "Fair warning, Sandy. I never raise a fuss with a two-gun man. It ain't healthy. You've got me wrong in this matter." "Glad to hear it. Then there won't be no argyment. Game open?" "Wide. An' a little hundred-proof stuff to take the alkali out of your throats. How about it?" "I don't drink when I'm playin'. I aim to break the bank ter-night. I'm feelin' lucky. Brought my mascot erlong." "Meaning Sam here?"