just as bad as mine. But yours lost,
and mine won, and so you plow in my potato patch."

"I don't see it," Billy contended stoutly. "A man with gumption can win
out to-day--"

"On government land?" Hall asked quickly.

Billy swallowed and acknowledged the stab.

"Just the same he can win out," he reiterated.

"Surely--he can win a job from some other fellow? A young husky with a
good head like yours can win jobs anywhere. But think of the handicaps
on the fellows who lose. How many tramps have you met along the road who
could get a job driving four horses for the Carmel Livery Stabler And
some of them were as husky as you when they were young. And on top of
it all you've got no shout coming. It's a mighty big come-down from
gambling for a continent to gambling for a job."

"Just the same--" Billy recommenced.

"Oh, you've got it in your blood," Hall cut him off cavalierly. "And why
not? Everybody in this country has been gambling for generations. It was
in the air when you were born. You've breathed it all your life. You,
who 've never had a white chip in the game, still go on shouting for it
and capping for it."

"But what are all of us losers to do?" Saxon inquired.

"Call in the police and stop the game," Hall recommended. "It's
crooked."

Saxon frowned.

"Do what your forefathers didn't do," he amplified. "Go ahead and
perfect democracy."

She remembered a remark of Mercedes. "A friend of mine says that
democracy is an enchantment."

"It is--in a gambling joint. There are a million boys in our public
schools right now swallowing the gump of canal boy to President, and
millions of worthy citizens who sleep sound every night in the belief
that they have a say in running the country."

"You talk like my brother Tom," Saxon said, failing to comprehend. "If
we all get into politics and work hard for something better maybe we'll
get it after a thousand years or so. But I want it now." She clenched
her hands passionately. "I can't wait; I want it now."

"But that is just what I've been telling you, my dear girl. That's
what's the trouble with all the losers. They can't wait. They want it
now--a stack of chips and a fling at the game. Well, they won't get it
now. That's what's the matter with you, chasing a valley in the moon.
That's what's the matter with Billy, aching right now for a chance to
win ten cents from me at Pedro cussing wind-chewing under his breath."

"Gee! you'd make a good soap-boxer,"