s the way we can
arrange it. We will play 'Jackpots' only. The best seven out of
thirteen. It will be a pretty game, in which, from an outsider's point
of view, I alone can be the loser. If I win I shall consider myself
amply repaid. If I lose--well," with an expressive movement of the
hands, "I will take my chance--as a sportsman should. I love your niece,
John, and will risk everything to win her. Now, think of it. It will be
the sweetest, prettiest gamble. And, too, think of the stake. A fortune,
John--a fortune for you. And for me a bare possibility of realizing my
hopes."

The old gambler's last vestige of honor struggled to make itself
apparent in a negative movement of the head. But the movement would not
come. His thoughts were of the game, and ere yet the last words of the
money-lender had ceased to sound, he was captured. The satanic cunning
of the proposal was lost upon his sodden intellect. It was a
contemptible, pitiable piece of chicanery with which Lablache sought to
trap the old man into giving his consent and assistance. The
money-lender had no intention of losing the game. He knew he must win.
He was merely resorting to this means because he knew the gambling
spirit of the rancher. He knew that "Poker" John's obstinacy was proof
against any direct attack; that no persuasion would induce the consent
he desired. The method of a boxer pounding the body of an opponent whom
he knows to be afflicted with some organic weakness of the heart is no
more cowardly than was Lablache's proposal.

The rancher still remained silent. Lablache moved in his chair; one of
his great fat hands rested for a moment on John's coat sleeve.

"Now, old friend," he said, with a hoarse, whistling breath. "Shall you
play--play the game? It will be a grand finale to the
many--er--comfortable games we have played together. Well? Thirteen
'Jackpots,' John--yes?"

"And--and if I consented--mind, I only say 'if.'" The rancher's face
twitched nervously.

"You would stand to win a fortune--and also one for your niece."

"Yes--yes. I might win. My luck may turn."

"It must--you cannot always lose."

"Quite right--I must win soon. It is a great offer--a splendid stake."

"It is."

"Yes--yes, Lablache, I will play. God, man! I will play you!"

Beads of sweat stood on John Allandale's forehead as he literally hurled
his acceptance at his companion. He accepted in the manner of one who
knows he is setting at defiance all honesty a