ne next the jug," the gambler said, and Wrinkle set the bottle
before him, watching him fill the glass with unsteady eyes.

"I don't think Dick is in a trading humor," Bradley informed him with a
cordial smile. "We've been talking over old times, and he's hot under
the collar. He's got an enemy back home that has been throwing dirt on
him. If I was in Dick's place I'd go back and call him down."

"I don't know anything about that," the gambler said, and he drank,
wiped his lips on his hand, and stepped to the centre of the bar and
peered out. "I see Shanks in front of his shebang now. If I make him an
offer and he accepts it, it is all off between us, Wrinkle--you
understand that. I've got to settle down at something, and I'll do it
without delay. What do you say?"

"Oh, I've said all I'm going to." Wrinkle tossed his head and applied
himself to restoring the bottle and washing the glasses beneath the
counter.

"All right. Good-day." He stepped out of the doors

Wiping his hands on a towel, Wrinkle came round to the table and leaned
on it.

"You damn fool!" Bradley cried, in disgust. "That's all I've got to
say."

"It's gone too far, Hank," Wrinkle groaned. "It was my own doings; I've
got to take my medicine. He's gone, anyway."

Bradley stared at the floor and pointed grimly at the gambler's
tell-tale shadow. Then he whispered: "Don't be a fool; close with him.
Secure his money, and I'll help you get your rights--don't lose this
chance. A thousand dollars is a lot of money back home. Call him in."

A change crept over Wrinkle's visage; he glided back behind the counter,
picked up his towel and began wiping the counter's top till he was in a
position to see the gambler. He caught the man's eye and laughed
tauntingly:

"Hey, Parson, you are always making your brags," he called out. "I'll
bet you haven't seen a thousand dollars in a month of Sundays."

"You think not, eh?" And the tall man stalked back into the room,
whipped out a roll of bills, and tossed them on the table in front of
Bradley. "Say, stranger, umpire this game--count it. I'm ready, but I
won't be ten minutes from now."

Bradley smiled easily and counted the twenty fifty-dollar bills.

"It's all right, Dick," he said. "You don't know what to do. I'm going
to close it for you. He'll take it, stranger." Bradley's eyes were on
the startled gambler. "I'll act for him."

There was a pause. Wrinkle's face was set under an expression of blended