ost edge of the
desert leagues which so many thousand men and women were hungry to
share.

"Yes, it's a desperate gamble for all of us," Dr. Slavens admitted. "I
don't see any more show of anybody in this party drawing a low number
than I see hope for a man who stands up to one of the swindles in the
gambling-tents over there."

"Still," argued Milo Strong, the Iowa teacher, "we've got just the same
chance as anybody out of the forty thousand. I don't suppose there's any
question that the drawing will be fair?"

"It will be under the personal management of the United States Land
Commissioner at Meander," said Horace Bentley.

"How do they work it?" asked June, perking up her head in quick interest
from her task of hammering together the seams of a leaky new tin cup.
She had it over a projecting end of one of the trestles, and was going
about it like a mechanic.

"Where did you learn that trick?" inquired the toolmaker, a look in his
eyes which was pretty close kin to amazement.

"Huh!" said June, hammering away. "What do you suppose a college
education's good for, anyway? But how do they manage the drawing?" she
pressed.

"Did they teach you the game of policy at Molly Bawn?" the lawyer
asked.

"The idea!" sniffed Mrs. Reed.

Miss Horton smiled into her handkerchief, and June shook her head in
vigorous denial.

"I don't even know what it is," said she. "Is it some kind of
insurance?"

"It beats insurance for the man that runs the game," said Strong,
reminiscently.

"All of the names of those who register will be taken to Meander when
the registration closes," explained Horace. "There are half a dozen
clerks in the little office here transcribing the names on to small
cards, with the addresses and all necessary information for notifying a
winner. On the day of the drawing the forty thousand-odd names will be
put into a big hollow drum, fitted with a crank. They'll whirl it, and
then a blindfolded child will put his hand into the drum and draw out
Number One. Another child will then draw Number Two, and so on until
eight thousand names have come out of the wheel. As there are only eight
thousand parcels of land, that will end the lottery. What do you think
of your chance by now, Miss Horton?"

"Why, it looks fair enough, the way they do it," she answered,
questioning Dr. Slavens with her eyes.

He shook his head.

"You can't tell," he responded. "I've seen enough crookedness in this
tent-town in the