was on his feet and
lurched across the table. His hand fell upon the first card which
Lablache had dealt to himself.

"The ace of clubs," shouted the rancher, his eyes blazing and his body
fairly shaking with fury. He turned the card over. It was the ace of
clubs.

"Cheat!" he shouted.

He had seen the card at the bottom of the pack as the other had ceased
to shuffle.

There was an instant's thrilling pause. Then Lablache's hand flew to
his pocket. He had heard the click of a cocking revolver.

For the moment the rancher's old spirit rose superior to his senile
debility.

"God in heaven! And this is how you've robbed me, you--you bastard!"

"Poker" John's seared face was at that moment the face of a maniac. He
literally hurled his fury at the money-lender, who was now standing
confronting him.

"It is the last time, if--if I swing for it. Prairie law you need, and,
Hell take you, you shall have it!"

He swung himself half round. Simultaneously two reports rang out. They
seemed to meet in one deafening peal, which was exaggerated by the
smallness of the room. Then all was silence.

Lablache stood unmoved, his yellow eyeballs gleaming wickedly. For a
second John Allandale swayed while his face assumed a ghastly hue. Then
in deathly silence he slowly crumpled up, as it were. No sound passed
his lips and he sank in a heap upon the floor. His still smoking pistol
dropped beside him from his nerveless fingers.

The rancher had intended to kill Lablache, but the subtle money-lender
had been too quick. The lashless eyes watched the deathly fall of the
old man. There was no expression in them but that of vengeful coldness.
He was accustomed to the unwritten laws of the prairie. He knew that he
had saved his life by a hair's-breadth. His right hand was still in his
coat pocket. He had fired through the cloth of the coat.

Some seconds passed. Still Lablache did not move. There was no remorse
in his heart--only annoyance. He was thinking with the coolness of a
callous nerve. He was swiftly calculating the effect of the catastrophe
as regarded himself. It was the worst thing that could have happened to
him. Shooting was held lightly on the prairie, he knew, but--Then he
slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and looked thoughtfully at it.
His caution warned him of something. He withdrew the empty cartridge
case and cleaned out the barrel. Then he put a fresh cartridge in the
chamber and returned the pistol to his p