"I seen her setting right there, Colonel," says I, "in this room, on our old hide lounge--her wringing her hands like she'd tear 'em apart. She was bucking a hard game then, and doing her best to play it fair--her just a kid, with no special chance to be so very wise, and not having no ma. She didn't have a soul to go to, and all that was worrying her was which side of the game she really was on. For she knowed, even if we didn't, like I told you just now--she must of knowed it somehow--there's one particular game that God Almighty plays so He can't lose." He groaned like I hated to hear. But he didn't weaken. I knowed he couldn't quit. XXIX HOW THE GAME BROKE Today was the day Old Man Wisner was to get home; and that evening me and Old Man Wright laid out to go over there and have a talk with him. So a lot of things had to be done that day. Old Man Wright he got up at sunup, and almost all day he was busy in the room he used for a office at the house; he hadn't hardly went downtown at all since Bonnie Bell run away. He had a desk full of papers here, and now he sent for his lawyer and his barber to come over early in the day. "Why, Alderman," says the lawyer man, "you act like you was making your last will and testament, and getting ready to close up business." He laughs then; but Old Man Wright don't laugh. "I am," says he. "It's time; I've been dead more'n a week now." They made out some papers about houses and lots and stocks and things, how they was to be distributed in case of the deemise of the said John William Wright. Then after a while they come around to the papers in the big case we had against Old Man Wisner for the last deferred payment on the Circle Arrow trade that hadn't been paid yet and wouldn't be. Old Man Wright sets back and looks at them papers right ca'm. "I know what Old Man Wisner's been East for," says he. "He couldn't raise that much money--nigh on a million dollars--on anything as wildcat as strawberries and cream in Wyoming; not these times. Even the banks is wise onto that now. Stenographers and clerks and ministers and doctors don't bite like they used to no more; it's harder to find people that's willing to pay in so much a month for a bungalow in Florida or Wyoming while they set home engaged in light and genteel employment. Every oncet in a while the American people gets took with a spasum of a little horse sense. There's places for peaches and cream, and there's places for cows, but you don't want to get your wires crossed.