"But Lee had awful luck, and in half an hour he owned half of Humble's next month's pay. Now, every time he gets a chance he shows Humble the cards and asks for a game. 'Nicee game, ploker, nicee game,' he'll say. What Humble says is pertinent, profane and permeating. Then the boys guy him to a finish. He'll be wanting to teach Lee how to play fan-tan some day, so the boys say. Lee must have graduated in poker before Humble ever heard of the game." Shields laughed heartily and swiftly ran over his cards. "Fifteen two, four, six, a pair is eight, and a double run of three is fourteen. Real good," he said as he pegged. "Passed the crack that time. What have you got?" The foreman put his cards down, found three sixes and then turned the crib face up. "Pair of tens and His Highness," he grumbled. "Only three in that crib!" "That's what you get for cutting a three," laughed the sheriff. The game continued until the striking of the clock startled the guest. "Midnight!" he cried. "Thirty miles before I get to bed--no, no, I can't stay with you to-night --much obliged, all the same." He clapped his sombrero on his head and started for the door: "Well, better luck next time, Jim--three twenty-four hands shore did make a difference. Right where they were needed, too. So long." "Sorry you won't stay, Tom," called his friend from the door as the foreman mounted. "You might just as well, you know." "I'm sorry, too, but I've got to be on hand to-morrow--anyway, it's bright moonlight--so long!" he cried as he cantered away. "Hey, Tom!" cried the sheriff, leaping from the porch and running to the gate. "Tom!" "Hullo, what is it?" asked the foreman, drawing rein and returning. "Smoke this on your way, it'll seem shorter," said the sheriff, holding out a cigar. "By George, I will!" laughed Blake. "That's fine, you're all right!" "Be good," cried the sheriff, watching his friend ride down the street. "Shore enough good--I have to be," floated back to his ears. CHAPTER XVI THE FLYING-MARE The Sunday morning following Blake's visit to Ford's Station found the Star C in excitement. Notwithstanding the fact that on every pleasant night after the day's work had been done it was the custom for the outfit to indulge in a swim, and that Saturday night had been very pleasant, the Limping Water was being violently disturbed, and laughter and splashing greeted the sun as it looked over the rim of the bank. Cakes of soap glistened on the sand on the west bank and towels hung from convenient limbs of the bushes which fringed the creek.