s
going, the last night or two. A fellow in that last bunch Florence
rounded up made quite a clean up last night."

"That so, let's go on in. This claim-holding gets my goat anyway. I
don't see where--"

That was all Irish heard, but that was enough.

Had he turned in time to catch the wink that one speaker gave to the
other, and the sardonic grin that answered the lowered eyelid, he would
have had the scrap of conversation properly focused in his mind, and
would not have swallowed the bait as greedily as he did. But we all make
mistakes. Irish made the mistake of underestimating the cunning of his
enemies.

So here he was, kicking up the dust on the town trail just as those
three intended that he should do. But that he rode alone instead of in
the midst of his fellows was not what the three had intended; and that
he rode with the interest of his friends foremost in his mind was also
an unforeseen element in the scheme.

Irish did not see H. J. Owens anywhere in town--nor did he see either of
the two men who had stood behind him. But there was a poker game running
in Rusty Brown's back room, and Irish immediately sat in without further
investigation. Bert Rogers was standing behind one of the players, and
gave Irish a nod and a wink which may have had many meanings. Irish
interpreted it as encouragement to sail in and clean up the bunch.

There was money enough in sight to build that fence when he sat down.
Irish pulled his hat farther over his eyebrows, rolled and lighted a
cigarette while he waited for that particular jackpot to be taken, and
covertly sized up the players.

Every one of them was strange to him. But then, the town was full of
strangers since Florence Grace and her Syndicate began to reap a harvest
off the open country, so Irish merely studied the faces casually, as a
matter of habit They were nesters, of course--real or prospective. They
seemed to have plenty of money--and it was eminently fitting that the
Happy Family's fence should be built with nester money.

Irish had in his pockets exactly eighteen dollars and fifty-cents. He
bought eighteen dollars' worth of chips and began to play. Privately he
preferred stud poker to draw, but he was not going to propose a change;
he felt perfectly qualified to beat any three pilgrims that ever came
West.

Four hands he played and lost four dollars. He drank a glass of beer
then, made himself another cigarette and settled down to business,
feeling t