"That’s nicer than—oh, pshaw!" she exclaimed, pouting. "An’ you would n’t drink a full glass to _that_ one. You must think I ’m nice, when you renig like that! Don’t tell me any more pretty things—an’ stop right where you are! Think you can hang onto me after that? Well, that’s better; why didn’t you do it th’ first time? You can be a nice boy when you want to." He flushed angrily. "Will you stop callin’ me a boy?" he demanded unsteadily. "I ain’t no kid! I do a man’s work, earn a man’s pay, an’ I spend it like a man." "An’ drink a boy’s drink," she teased. "You ’ll grow up some day." She reached forward and filled his glass again, for an instant letting her cheek touch his. Swiftly evading him she laughed and patted him on the head. "Here, _man_," she taunted, "drink this if you dare!" He frowned at her but gulped down the liquor. "There, like a fool!" he grumbled, bitterly. "You tryin’ to get me drunk?" he demanded suddenly in a heavy voice. She threw back her head and regarded him coldly. "It will do me no good. Why should I? I merely wanted to see if you would take a dare, if you were a man. You are either not sober now, or you are insultingly impolite. I don’t care to waste any more words or time with you," and she turned haughtily toward the door. He had leaned against the piano, but now he lurched forward and cried out. "I ’m sorry if I hurt yore feelin’s that way—I shore didn’t mean to. Ain’t we goin’ to make up?" he asked, anxiously. "Do you mean that?" she demanded, pausing and looking around. "You know I do, Annie. Le’s make up—come on; le’s make up." "Well; I’ll try you, an’ see." "Play some more. You play beautiful," he assured her with heavy gravity. "I’m tired of—but, say: Can you play poker?" she asked, eagerly. "Why, shore; who can’t?" "Well, I can’t, for one. I want to learn, so I can win my money back from Jim. He taught me, but all I had time to learn was how to lose." Sammy regarded her in puzzled surprise and gradually the idea became plain. "Did he teach you, an’ win money from you? Did he keep it?" he finally blurted, his face flushed a deeper red from anger. She nodded. "Why, yes; why?" He looked around for his sombrero, muttering savagely. "Where you goin’?" she asked in surprise. "To get it back. He ain’t goin’ to keep it, th’ coyote!" "Why, he won’t give it back to you if he would n’t to me. Anyhow, he won it." "_Won_ it!" he snapped. "He stole it, that’s how much he won it. He ’ll give it back or get shot." "Now look here," she said, quickly. "You ain’t goin’ gunnin’ for no friend of mine. If you want to get that money for me, an’ I certainly can use it about now, you got to try some other way. Say! Why don’t you win it from him?" she exulted. "That’s th’ way—get it back th’ way it went."