"Forty years from now you'll be able for to say the same thing," remarked Mr. Sanders. "Well, as I was a-tellin' you, old Jonas ain't nigh as mean as he looks to be, but when I found out that he reely had a heart, you mought 'a' knocked me down wi' a feather. It was the time your gran'daddy died. Why, Jonas walked the floor all night long. That much I know bekaze I seed it wi' my own eyes. An' then thar's that nigger Randall--thar ain't no tellin' how much Jonas has done for him, nor how much he will do. But when it comes to makin' a fuss, Jonas ain't in it. He's too hard-headed for to let people know him as he is. Now, don't think I'm doin' any obiturary work, bekaze the fact is old Jonas ain't a bit better than he ought to be. I reckon, he is too hard-headed for to let people know him as he is, but the fact is that old Jonas is human; he ain't a bit better than the rest on us--an' he may be wuss in some spots. Ef you've ever took notice, the people between the best man in the world an' the wust, make a purty fa'r average. I reckon," Mr. Sanders went on, regarding Somers with a child-like smile, "I reckon you ain't never played poker as a habit?" "Not as a habit," replied the young man, laughing. "Well, the hand I've dealt to you is known as a royal straight flush, an' it sweeps ever'thing before it. Look it over when you git time, an' ef anybody calls you, jes spread out the kyards on the table, an' ax 'em what they think of the lay-out." "I don't think I know what you mean," said the young man, with some show of embarrassment. "Maybe not," replied Mr. Sanders, "but I leave it to you ef that's my fault; I've dealt you the hand, an' ef you dunno how to play it, you can't blame me. I see Tidwell across yander, an' I want to have a talk wi' him; maybe he'll loan me his pocket-han'kcher. So-long!" Young Somers went to his room in the tavern and pondered long over the problem that Mr. Sanders had presented with confident smiles. He tried to think it out, but, somehow, he could think of nothing but a laughing face, dimpled and sweet, blue eyes and golden hair, and lovely white hands lifted in eloquent gesture. He could concentrate all the powers of his mind on these, and he could think a little, just a little, of the wonderful personality of Mr. Sanders, who had persisted in remaining a boy, in spite of his years and large experience, but so far as puzzles and problems were concerned, his mind refused to work.