The sudden transition from poverty to comparative affluence was too much for Larkins! Looking through tear-dimmed eyes at Sonora he struggled for words with which to express his gratitude, but they refused to come; and at last with a sob he turned away. At the door, however, he stopped and choked out: “Thank you, boys, thank you.” The next moment he was gone. At once a wave of relief swept over the room. Indeed, the incident was forgotten before the unfortunate man had gone ten paces from The Polka, for then it was that Trinidad suddenly rose in his seat, lunged across the table for The Sidney Duck’s card-box, and cried out angrily: “You’re cheatin’! That ain’t a square deal! You’re a cheat!” In a moment the place was in an uproar. Every man at the table sprung to his feet; chairs were kicked over; chips flew in every direction; guns came from every belt; and so occupied were the men in watching The Sidney Duck that no one perceived the Lookout sneak out through the door save Nick, who was returning from the dance-hall with a tray of empty glasses. But whether or not he was aware that the Australian’s confederate was bent upon running away he made no attempt to stop him, for in common with every man present, including Sonora and Trinidad, who had seized the gambler and brought him out in front of his card-table, Nick’s eyes were fastened upon another man whom none had seen enter, but whose remarkable personality, now as often, made itself felt even though he spoke not a word. “Lift his hand!” cried Sonora, looking as if for sanction at the newcomer, who stood in the centre of the room, calmly smoking a huge cigar. Forcing up The Sidney Duck’s arms, Trinidad threw upon the table a deck of cards which he had found concealed about the other’s person, bursting out with: “There! Look at that, the infernal, good-for-nothin’ cheat!” “String ’im up!” suggested Sonora, and as before he shot a questioning look at the man, who was regarding the scene with bored interest. “You bet!” shouted Trinidad, pulling at the Australian’s arm. “For ’eaven’s sake, don’t, don’t, don’t!” wailed The Sidney Duck, terror-stricken. The Sheriff of Manzaneta County, for such was the newcomer’s office, raised his steely grey eyes inquisitorially to Nick’s who, with a hostile stare at the Australian, emitted: “Chicken lifter!” “String ’im! String ’im!” insisted Trinidad, at the same time dragging the culprit towards the door. “No, boys, no!” cried the unfortunate wretch, struggling uselessly to break away from his captors. At this stage the Sheriff of Manzaneta County took a hand in the proceedings, and drawled out: “Well, gentlemen--” He stopped short and seemingly became reflective.