ent back to the group he had left. Larry sat on the edge of the
table; Ruby stood close to him and she was talking; Stanton and the
other woman had taken chairs.

"Wal, I reckon you made a rake-off," drawled Larry, as Neale came up.
"Lend me some money, pard."

Neale glanced at Larry and from him to the girl. She dropped her eyes.

"Ruby, do you like Larry?" he queried.

"Sure do," replied the girl.

"Reddy, do you like Ruby?" went on Neale.

Beauty Stanton smiled her interest. The other woman came back from
nowhere to watch Neale. Larry regarded his friend in mild surprise.

"I reckon it was a turrible case of love at fust sight," he drawled.

"I'll call your bluff!" flashed Neale. "I've just won three thousand
dollars. I'll give it to you. Will you take it and leave Benton--go
back--no! go west--begin life over again?"

"Together, you mean!" exclaimed Beauty Stanton, as she rose with a glow
on her faded face. No need to wonder why she had been named Beauty.

"Yes, together," replied Neale, in swift steadiness. "You've started
bad. But you're young. It's never too late. With this money you can buy
a ranch--begin all over again."

"Pard, haven't you seen too much red liquor?" drawled Larry.

The girl shook her head. "Too late!" she said, softly.

"Why?"

"Larry is bad, but he's honest. I'm both bad and dishonest."

"Ruby, I wouldn't call you dishonest," returned Neale, bluntly.
"Bad--yes. And wild! But if you had a chance?"

"No," she said.

"You're both slated for hell. What's the sense of it?"

"I don't see that you're slated for heaven," retorted Ruby.

"Wal, I shore say echo," drawled Larry, as he rolled a cigarette. "Pard,
you're drunk this heah minnit."

"I'm not drunk. I appeal to you, Miss Stanton," protested Neale.

"You certainly are not drunk," she replied. "You're just--"

"Crazy," interrupted Ruby.

They laughed.

"Maybe I do have queer impulses," replied Neale, as he felt his face
grow white. "Every once in a while I see a flash--of--of I don't know
what. _I_ could do something big--even--now--if my heart wasn't dead."

"Mine's in its grave," said Ruby, bitterly. "Come, Stanton, let's get
out of this. Find me men who talk of drink and women."

Neale deliberately reached out and stopped her as she turned away. He
faced her.

"You're no four-flush," he said. "You're game. You mean to play this out
to a finish.... But you're no--no maggot like the most. You can think.
You're