ere was a big pot just won his rasping voice was always at
the elbow of the winner, with his monotonous "Any drinks, gents?" If a
table was slow to require his services he never left it alone. He
drove the men at it to drink in self-defense. It was a skilful
display--though not as uncommon as one might think, even in the best
restaurants in a big metropolis.

So the night wore on. Every man drank. They drank when they won. They
drank when they lost. In the former case it was out of the buoyancy of
their spirits, in the latter because they wished to elevate them.
Whatever excuse they required they found, and when difficulty in that
direction arose, there was always Silas Rocket on hand to coax them.

Jim, huddled away in a corner behind the great stove used for heating
the place in winter, was busy with his game. He had shown no
recognition of Will Henderson's coming. He had probably seen him,
because, though hidden from it himself, he had a full view of the bar,
and any time he looked up, his eyes must have encountered the two
figures now left alone beside it.

He was drinking, and drinking hard. He was also losing. The cards were
running consistently against him. But then, he was always an unlucky
player. He rarely protested against it, for in reality he had little
interest in the play, and to-night less than usual. He played because
it saved him thinking or talking, and he wanted to sit there and drink
until Silas turned them out. Then he intended returning to the ranch.
He meant to have one night's forgetfulness, at least, even if he had
to stupefy his senses in bad whiskey.

Abe and Will had reached the confidential stage. They were full of
friendliness for each other, and ready to fall on each other's necks.
For some time Will had desired an opportunity to open his heart to
this man. He would have opened it to anybody. His Celtic temperament
was a fire of enthusiasm. He felt that all the world was his, and he
wanted to open his arms and embrace it. But so far Abe had given him
little opportunity. His own voice pleased the lay-preacher, and he had
orated on every subject from politics to street-paving, giving his
companion little chance for anything but monosyllabic comments. But
finally Will's chance came. Abe had abruptly questioned the propriety
of permitting marriage in their village, where the burden of keeping
the offspring of the union was likely to fall upon the public
shoulders. Will plunged into the mi