* *

It was Split who next adopted the Last Straw. Under her tutelage Frank
learned to climb her sister's body and stand upright and fearless on her
shoulders. She was also initiated into the great game of "fats," which
the Madigans played winter evenings on the crumb-cloth in the
dining-room; said crumb-cloth being printed in large squares of red and
white, one of which was chalked off for the ring.

Frank's induction into the game led to a grand battle between Split and
Sissy, the latter contending that the baby's fingers could not properly
handle and shoot the marbles. But Sissy ought to have known better than
to make such a point, as the Madigans had a peculiar way of playing
fats, for which Frank--being a Madigan--was as fitted by nature as any
of her seniors.

It consisted, first, in hauling out the big box of marbles, in which the
booty won by the whole family was kept--the Madigans were gamblers, of
course, as was everything born on the Comstock. Second, in a desperate
controversy as to how the marbles were to be divided. Third, in a
compromise, which necessitated that a complete count be made of every
marble in the box--and the Madigans' unfeminine skill made this a
question of handling hundreds of them, of suspiciously watching one
another, of losing and of finding; and it all took time. Fourth, a
decision as to handicaps. Fifth, a heated discussion of the relative
values of puries, pottries, agates, crystals, and 'dobies. Sixth, a
fiery attack from Sissy on Split's lucky taw. Seventh, the falling
asleep of Frank squarely over the ring. And eighth, the sending of the
whole tribe to bed by Aunt Annethe entire evening having been taken up
with arranging an order of business, and not a stroke of business
accomplished.

But the Split sphere of influence over the disputed territory of Frances
was considerably circumscribed by the affair of the stagecoach. It
stood--a dusty, lumbering vehicle that made daily trips down from the
mountain to the small towns in the canon--upon a raised platform in
front of Baldy Bob's. Baldy Bob, who departed with it the first thing in
the morning and returned late in the afternoon, hauled it each day up on
to the platform, intending to get out the hose and wash it off--after
dinner when he came back from downtown. But he never came back till time
to hitch up and start down the canon again. So the old coach was left
high and dry, while the sun went down behind Mount Davi