The gambling room of the Red Queen was on the left of the dance hall. Here Francisco Garcia, the owner, could be found on any night. The Toad, as he was called by some, but always behind his back, acted as lookout for a big game. He sat on a raised platform between the two faro tables. He was so powerfully built that he looked squat despite his height. Heavy jowls, thick lips, and protruding eyes relieved the monotony of his full-moon face. His swarthiness hinted at Mexican blood. Garcia himself never carried a visible weapon; he relied on his two paid killers for protection--"Yuma Kid" and "Baldy" Flynn. And because his enemies had a strange habit of disappearing or ending violently, he was more feared than any other man along the border. Bill Anderson, with Jim Anson, still unnoted, at his heels, sauntered to the table and watched the play for a moment. Then he smiled to Garcia. "Having a big game?" The Toad grunted. "I wanted a word with you, but to-morrow will do." Anderson turned away. Jim Anson, that ubiquitous hobo, flopped drunkenly at a near-by table. From beneath his tattered hat brim he studied the gross Mexican and the two killers who lounged against the wall behind him. "Gosh! The Devil on Horseback," murmured Anson to himself. "And he had four sons! Horned lizards. Rattlers. Coyotes, mixed up with tiger and Spanish bull." He wandered out to the dance hall, staggering; yet, strangely enough, when a bully struck at him, he seemed to float away to escape the blow. His comrades at the bar were now noisy and riotous with drink. "I'd sure like to see some of this money that's bein' bet that Pete Cable won't get his neck stretched," Windy announced to the world. "Yuh wanta see it? Take a look at this." A wad of bills dropped on the bar. The three punchers swung about to stare at the money and at the man with the high, cackling voice who had produced it. They met the toothless leer of old Baldy Flynn. Behind Baldy lounged the Yuma Kid, twenty-one-year-old, two-gun killer. The Kid's pale eyes met theirs, and his two buck teeth shone in a menacing sneer. Most men could easily whip the narrow-chested Yuma Kid in a hand-to-hand encounter, but he did not fight that way; and he was feared along the border. Baldy and the Kid, Garcia's two hired slayers, were inseparable. They were bound together by the bond of skill with a Colt and by their unscrupulous cruelty, despite their varying characters. The Yuma Kid seldom talked, never laughed, and never drank. He avoided quarrels, save for profit. Baldy, on the contrary, loved his liquor, his own jokes, and above all loved to quarrel with those who failed to laugh with him. Toothpick realized that he and Windy stood no chance against these two killers; he knew their reputation. Yet the bar was crowded; people were listening and were already commencing to shuffle to one side in the hope of a fight.