but Lon, I'm lucky--you know that yourself--I can go East and sell
the old mine."

"Oh, you're lucky, are you?" interrupted L. W. "Well, how come then
that you're standing here, broke? But here, I've got business, I'll
give you ten dollars--and remember, it's the last that you get!"

He drew out a bill, but Rimrock stood looking at him with a slow and
contemptuous smile.

"Yes, you doggoned old screw," he answered ungraciously, "what good
will ten dollars do?"

"You can get just as drunk on that," replied L. W. pointedly, "as you
could on a hundred thousand!"

A change came over Rimrock's face, the swift mirroring of some great
idea, and he reached out and grabbed the money.

"Where you going?" demanded L. W. as he started across the street.

"None of your business," answered Rimrock curtly, but he headed
straight for the Mint.

CHAPTER II

WHEN RICHES FLY

The Mint was Gunsight's only gambling house. It had a bar, of course,
and a Mexican string band that played from eight o'clock on; besides a
roulette wheel, a crap table, two faro layouts, and monte for the
Mexicans. But the afternoon was dull and the faro dealer was idly
shuffling a double stack of chips when Rimrock brushed in through the
door. Half an hour afterwards the place was crowded and all the games
were running big. Such is the force of example--especially when you
win.

Rimrock threw his bill on the table, bought a stack of white chips,
placed it on the queen and told the dealer to turn 'em. The queen won
and Rimrock took his chips and played as the spirit moved. He won
more, for the house was unlucky from the start, and soon others began
to ride his bets. If he bet on the seven, eager hands reached over his
shoulder and placed more chips on the seven. Petty winners drifted off
to try their luck at monte, the sports took a flier at roulette; and as
the gambling spirit, so subtly fed, began to rise to a fever, Rimrock
Jones, the cause of all this heat, bet more and more--and still won.

It was at the height of the excitement when, with half of the checks in
the rack in front of him, Rimrock was losing and winning by turns, that
the bull-like rumble of L. W. Lockhart came drifting in to him above
the clamor of the crowd.

"Why don't you quit, you fool?" the deep voice demanded. "Cash in and
quit--you've got your stake!"

Rimrock made a gesture of absent-minded impatience and watched the slow
turn of the cards. Not even t