gold."

Hough's cold eyes shone like fire in ice. He opened his lips to
speak--then quickly motioned Ancliffe back to the table. They had just
seated themselves when the two gamblers returned, followed by Durade. He
was rubbing his hands in satisfaction.

"What was the fuss about?" queried Hough, tipping the ashes off his
cigar.

"Some drunks after money they had lost."

"And got thrown out for their pains?" inquired Ancliffe.

"Yes. Mull and Fresno are out there now."

The game was taken up again. Allie sensed a different note in it. The
gambler Hough now faced her in his position at the table; and behind
every card he played there seemed to be intense purpose and tremendous
force. Ancliffe soon left the game. But he appeared fascinated where
formerly he had been indifferent. Soon it developed that Hough, by his
spirit and skill, was driving his opponents, inciting their passion for
play, working upon their feelings. Durade seemed the weakest gambler,
though he had the best luck. Good luck balanced his excited play. The
two other gamblers pitted themselves against Hough.

The shadows of evening had begun to darken the room when Durade called
for lights. A slim, sloe-eyed, pantherish-moving Mexican came in to
execute the order. He wore a belt with a knife in it and looked like a
brigand. When he had lighted the lamps he approached Durade and spoke in
Spanish. Durade replied in the same tongue. Then the Mexican went out.
One of the gamblers lost and arose from the table.

"Gentlemen, may I go out for more money and return to the game?" he
asked.

"Certainly," replied Hough.

Durade assented with bad grace.

The game went on and grew in interest. Probably the Mexican had reported
the fact of its possibilities, or perhaps Durade had sent out word of
some nature. For one by one his villainous lieutenants came in, stepping
softly, gleaming-eyed.

"Durade, have you stopped play outside?" queried Hough.

"Supper-time. Not much going on," replied Mull.

Hough watched this speaker with keen coolness.

"I did not address you," he said.

Durade, catching the drift, came out of his absorption of play long
enough to say that with a big game at hand he did not want to risk any
interruption. He spoke frankly, but he did not look sincere.

Presently the second gambler announced that he would consider it a favor
to be allowed to go out and borrow money. Then he left hurriedly. Durade
and Hough played alone; and the