e chance of cracking the apex of a vein. The
small companies sank shafts on the chance of touching pay ore, the big
companies tunneled deep and drifted wide in the hope of cutting several
veins. The merchants built in the belief that the camp was a permanent
town, and the gamblers took chances of losing money if their game was
honest, and put their lives at hazard if they cheated.

Only the saloon-keepers took no chances whatever. They played the safe
game. They rejoiced in a certainty, for if the miners had good luck they
drank to celebrate it, and if they had bad luck they drank to forget
it--and so the liquor-dealers prospered.

Tall Ed Kelley, on his long trip across "the big flat," as he called the
valley between the Continental Divide and the Cascade Range, stopped at
Cinnebar to see what was going on. In less than three days he sold his
horse and saddle and took a chance on a leased mine. At the end of a
year he was half owner in a tunnel that was yielding a fair grade of ore
and promised to pay, but he was not content. A year in one place was a
long time for him, and he was already meditating a sale of his interest
in order that he might take up the line of his march toward the
Northwest, when a curious experience came to him.

One night as he drifted into the Palace saloon he felt impelled to take
a chance with "the white marble." That is to say, he sat in at the
roulette-table and began to play small stakes.

The man who rolled the marble was young and good-looking. Kelley had
seen him before and liked him. Perhaps this was the reason he played
roulette instead of faro. At any rate, he played, losing steadily at
first--then, suddenly, the ball began to fall his way, and before the
clock pointed to ten he had several hundred dollars in winnings.

"This is my night," he said, on meeting the eyes of the young dealer.

"Don't crowd a winning horse," retorted the man at the wheel; and Kelley
caught something in his look which checked his play and led him to quit
the game. In that glance the gambler had conveyed a friendly warning,
although he said, as Kelley was going away: "Be a sport. Give the wheel
another show. See me to-morrow."

Kelley went away with a distinct feeling of friendliness toward the
youngster, whose appearance was quite unlike the ordinary gambler. He
seemed not merely bored, but disgusted with his trade, and Kelley said
to himself: "That lad has a story to tell. He's no ordinary robber."