"Nothin’ but an eight—that’s two for th’ go. My crib?" The Boss nodded. "Ugly as blazes," he mused. "_I_ would n’t court her, not even in th’ dark—huh! Fifteen two an’ a pair. That’s bad goin’, very bad goin’," he sighed as he pegged. "But you can’t tell nothin’ ’bout wimmen from their looks," remarked Jimmy, with the grave assurance of a man whose experience in that line covered years instead of weeks. "Now I knowed a right purty gal once. She was plumb sweet an’ tender an’ clingin’, she was. An’ she had high ideas, she did. She went an’ told me she would n’t have nothin’ to do with no man what wasn’t honest, an’ all that. But when a feller I knowed rid in to her place one night she shore hid him under her bed for three days an’ nights. He had got real popular with a certain posse because he was careless with a straight iron. Folks fairly yearned for to get a good look at him. They rid up to her place and she lied so sweet an’ perfect they shore apologized for even botherin’ her. Who ’d ’a’ thought to look under _her_ bed, anyhow? Some day he ’ll go back an’ natchurally run off with that li’l gal." He scanned his hand and reached for the pegs. "Got eight here," he grunted. The Boss regarded him closely. "She stood off a posse with her eyes an’ mouth, eh?" "Didn’t have to stand ’em off. They was plumb ashamed th’ minute they saw her blushes. An’ they was plumb sorry for her bein’ even a li’l interested in a no-account brand-blotter like—him." He turned the crib over and spread it out with a sort of disgust. "Come purty near bein’ somethin’ in that crib," he growled. "An’ did you know that feller?" the Boss asked carelessly. Jimmy started a little. "Why, yes; he was once a pal of mine. But he got so he could blot a brand plumb clever. Us cow-punchers shore like to gamble. We are plumb childish th’ way we bust into trouble. I never seen one yet that was worth anythin’ that would n’t take ’most any kind of a fool chance just for th’ devilment of it." The Boss ruffled his cards reflectively. "Yes; we are a careless breed. Sort of flighty an’ reckless. Do you think that gal’s still in love with you? Wimmin’ is fickle," he laughed. "_She_ ain’t," retorted Jimmy with spirit. "She ’ll wait all right—for him." The Boss smiled cynically. "You can’t hide it, Jimmy. Yo ’re th’ man what got so popular with th’ sheriff. Ain’t you?" Jimmy half arose, but the Boss waved him to be seated again. "Why, you ain’t got nothin’ to fear out here," he assured him. "We sorta like fellers that ’ll take a chance. I reckon we all have took th’ short end one time or another. An’ I got th’ idea mebby yo ’re worth more ’n fifty a month. Take any chances for a hundred?" Jimmy relaxed and grinned cheerfully. "I reckon I ’d do a whole lot for a hundred real dollars every month."