Twice she found herself in financial difficulties through reckless betting, and twice the open-handed Bud had to come to her assistance. Each time his comment was characteristic, and Nan laughed at him with the irresponsibility of a child who tastes the delight of gambling for the first time. "Say, little gal," Bud admonished her, the second time he unrolled his "wad" of bills. "Makin' dollars on a race-track's jest about as easy as makin' ice-cream. Ther's jest one way of doing it. Ast yourself which hoss you're craziest to dope out your money on, an' when you're plumb sure then get right along an' bet on the other feller. Meanwhiles think in dollars an' play in cents." And Nan's answer reflected her feelings of the moment. "You can't play in cents, my Daddy, when it's time to play in dollars. You never know when the time's coming along when even cents are denied you." Then before the worshipping parent could add to his advice the girl darted off with her hands full of outspread bills seeking the pool rooms. She had seen the horses cantering over to the post for the half-mile dash. It was a race for legitimate cow-ponies and she knew Jeff's "Sassafras" was running in it. She meant to bet on Jeff's horse. It mattered nothing to her what other horses were running. She knew little enough of their claims. She had one thought in life. Anything to do with Jeff Masters, anything of his was good enough for her to gamble on--even with her life. This was the real, all unconscious Nan. It was not in her to give half measure. She had no idea of what she was doing. She had no subtlety or calculation of anything where her love was concerned. She would back Jeff to the limit, and stand or fall by it. It was the simple loyalty and devotion which only a woman can yield. On her way to the pool room she encountered Jeff himself, and, in the excitement of the moment, clasping her money in both hands, she thrust them out toward him. "Say, Jeff," she cried, "I'm just crazy. The horses have gone right out to the start now, and--and I'm gasping to put my dollars on Sassafras." The man's quiet smile was good to see. And Nan warmed under its influence. This was the Jeff she had known so long and loved so well. There was no other woman near to have provoked that smile. It was hers. She felt it was all hers, and her eyes shone up into the depths of blue she so loved. "Why, Nan, I just hate to disappoint you," he said, in a gentle fashion. "But you'll surely be crazy to back my plug with Tommy Cleveden's 'Jack Rabbit' in the race. It's a cinch for him. It is so." Nan laughed a glad buoyant laugh. "Jack Rabbit?" she echoed scornfully. "Why, he points the toe. Guess he'd outrun Sassafras if he kept his feet, but he'll never do it. He'll peck. Then he'll change his stride. No, Jeff. Sassafras goes with me."