touch of kindness was something exceedingly rare.

Houston's mind was occupied with thoughts of the terrible scene he was
rapidly approaching, as well as with memories of his last interview
with Morgan on the preceding night. At last, having crossed a ravine,
the horse slackened his pace, as he climbed the steep ascent on the
other side, and Houston, almost unconsciously, spoke his thoughts
aloud.

"Poor Morgan!" he said, with a heavy sigh, "poor fellow! If I could
only have saved him from this! God knows I would have given him any
amount of money to have prevented this."

"'Twouldn't ha' been no use, sir," Bull-dog broke in quickly, eager to
console Houston, "'twouldn't ha' been no use to have give 'im money,
'cause, ye see, them fellers that he played with would ha' got it
all."

"Who were they?" inquired Houston.

"Oh, there was Faro Dick and Slicky Sam, and a lot of 'em; Morgan
wasn't no match for fellers like them, they was all too swift fer
him."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, I seen 'em playin' lots o' times, and they're all reg'lar
sharpers, 'n Morgan, he'd got reckless, 'n he didn't stan' no show
against 'em."

Houston looked down wonderingly and pityingly upon the little fellow,
young in years, but who knew so much of the dark side of life, but
nothing more was said, as, having reached the top of the hill, the
station was close at hand.

Having left his horse in charge of one of the company's men, Houston,
accompanied by Bull-dog as guide, proceeded across the street, to the
group of dirty, disreputable-looking buildings containing the saloons,
gambling houses and dance halls. He had little need of a guide, for,
before the shabbiest and most disreputable of the entire lot, was
gathered a motley crowd, gazing with awestruck curiosity at the
building in which had been enacted the tragedy of the night before. It
was a saloon with gambling rooms in the rear. Here Morgan had played
his last game,--just to see what luck he would have,--as he had said
to Houston, and from which he had come forth ruined, despairing,
desperate.

Passing through the crowd of jabbering Chinamen and "dagoes," of
miners off shift, drawn hither by curiosity, and of gamblers of all
grades from the professional expert to the "tin-horn," Houston found
his way around the corner of the building, down into an alley, dark,
dismal and reeking with filth. Here were groups of slatternly, unkempt
women, some of whom stared at him with braze