three feet from the Mexican's silent
companion. And all the time, though now he refused to turn his head
toward her, he was conscious of the strangely disturbing certainty that
those luminous eyes were regarding him with unshifting intensity.

Kendric abruptly spilled the dice out of the cup so that they rolled on
the table top.

"One die, one throw, ace high?" he asked curtly of Rios.

The Mexican nodded.

It was in the air that there would be big play, and men crowded around.
Briefly, the unusual presence of a woman, here at Fat Ortega's, was
forgotten.

"Select the lucky cube," Kendric invited Rios. The Mexican's slim
brown fingers drew one of the dice toward him, choosing at random.

Kendric opened vest and shirt and after a moment of fumbling drew forth
and slammed down on the table a money belt that bulged and struck like
a leaden bar.

"Gold and U. S. bank notes," he announced. "Keep your eye on me, Senor
Don Ruiz Rios de Mexico, while I count 'em."

Unbuttoning the pocket flaps, he began pouring forth the treasure which
he had brought back with him after two years in Old Mexico. Boyish and
gleeful, he enjoyed the expressions that came upon the faces about him
as he counted aloud and Rios watched with narrow, suspicious eyes. He
sorted the gold, arranging in piles of twenties and tens, all American
minted; he smoothed out the bank notes and stacked them. And at the
end, looking up smilingly, he announced:

"An even ten thousand dollars, senor."

"You damn fool!" cried out Twisty Barlow hysterically. "Why, man, with
that pile me an' you could sail back into San Diego like kings! Now
that dago will pick you clean an' you know it."

No one paid any attention to Barlow and he, after that one involuntary
outburst, recognized himself for the fool and kept his mouth shut,
though with difficulty.

Ruiz Rios's dark face was almost Oriental in its immobility. He did
not even look interested. He merely considered after a dreamy,
abstracted fashion.

Again a quick eager hand was laid on his arm, again his companion
whispered in his ear. Rios nodded curtly and turned to Ortega.

"Have you the money in the house?" he demanded.

"_Seguro_," said the gambling house owner. "I expected Senor Kendric."

"You do me proud," laughed Jim. "Let's see the color of it in American
money."

With most men the winning or losing of ten thousand dollars, though
they played heavily, was a matter of hours and mi