in. I'd sorta like a look-see
at the deck we was playin' with."

Blister laughed wheezily. "You w-won't get it. N-never heard of a hold-up
gettin' up a petition for better street lights, did you? No, an' you
n-never will. An' you never n-noticed a guy who was aimin' to bushwhack
another from the brush go to clearin' off the sage first. He ain't
l-lookin' for no open arguments on the m-merits of his shootin'. Not
none. Same with that Cheyenne bird an' his stocky pal acrost the table.
They're f-figurin' that dead decks tell no tales. The one you played with
is sure enough s-scattered every which way all over the floor along with
seve-real others." The fat justice of the peace murmured "How!" and
tilted his glass.

If Blister did not say "I told you so," it was not because he might not
have done it fairly. He had made one comment when Dud had proposed
sitting in to the game of draw.

"H-how much m-mazuma you got?"

"Twenty-five bucks left."

"If you s-stay outa that game you'll earn t-twenty-five bucks the
quickest you ever did in yore life."

Youth likes to buy its experience and not borrow it. Dud knew now that
Blister had been a wise prophet in his generation.

The bar at Gillespie's was at the front of the house. In the rear were
the faro and poker tables, the roulette wheels, and the other
conveniences for separating hurried patrons from their money. The Bear
Cat House did its gambling strictly on the level, but there was the usual
percentage in favor of the proprietor.

Mollie was sitting in an armchair on a small raised platform about
halfway back. She kept a brisk and business-like eye on proceedings. No
puncher who had gone broke, no tenderfoot out of luck, could go hungry in
Bear Cat if she knew it. The restaurant and the bar were at their service
just as though they had come off the range with a pay-check intact. They
could pay when they had the money. No books were kept. Their memories
were the only ledgers. Few of these debts of honor went unpaid in the
end.

But Mollie, though tender-hearted, knew how to run the place. Her
brusque, curt manner suited Bear Cat. She could be hail-fellow or hard as
flint, depending on circumstances. The patrons at Gillespie's remembered
her sex and yet forgot it. They guarded their speech, but they drank with
her at the bar or sat across a poker table from her on equal terms. She
was a good sport and could lose or win large sums imperturbably.

Below her now there f