an' have somethin'," he
sympathetically invited, wiping away an imaginary tear.

"An' he's so young!" sobbed Frenchy.

"An' so fair!" wailed Tex.

"An' so ornery!" howled Lefty, throwing his arms around the discomfited
youngster. Other arms went around him, and out of the sobbing mob could
be heard earnest and heart-felt cussing, interspersed with imperative
commands, which were gradually obeyed.

The Kid straightened up his wearing apparel. "Come on, yu locoed--"

"Angels?" Queried Charley Lane, interrupting him. "Sweet things?"
breathed Hopalong in hopeful expectancy.

"Oh, blast it!" yelled the Kid as he ran out into the street to escape
the persecution.

"Good Kid, all right," remarked Waffles. "He'll go around an' lick some
Mexican an' come back sweet as honey."

"Did somebody say poker?" Asked Bigfoot, digressing from the Kid.

"Oh, yu fellows don't want no poker. Of course yu don't. Poker's mighty
uncertain," replied Red.

"Yah!" exclaimed Tex Le Blanc, pushing forward. "I'll just bet yu to
a standstill that Waffles an' Salvation'll round up all th' festive
simoleons yu can get together! An' I'll throw in Frenchy's hat as an
inducement."

"Well, if yore shore set on it make her a pool," replied Red, "an' th'
winners divide with their outfit. Here's a starter," he added, tossing a
buckskin bag on the table. "Come on, pile 'em up."

The crowd divided as the players seated themselves at the table, the
O-Bar-O crowd grouping themselves behind their representatives; the
Bar-20 behind theirs. A deck of cards was brought and the game was on.

Red, true to his nature, leaned back in a corner, where, hands on hips,
he awaited any hostile demonstration on the part of the O-Bar-O; then,
suddenly remembering, he looked half ashamed of his warlike position and
became a peaceful citizen again. Buck leaned with his broad back against
the bar, talking over his shoulder to the bartender, but watching
Tenspot Davis, who was assiduously engaged in juggling a handful of
Mexican dollars.

Up by the door Bigfoot Baker, elated at winning the buck-and-wing
contest, was endeavoring to learn a new step, while his late rival was
drowning his defeat at Buck's elbow. Lefty Allen was softly singing a
Mexican love song, humming when the words would not come. At the
table could be heard low-spoken card terms and good-natured banter,
interspersed with the clink of gold and silver and the soft pat-pat
of the onlookers' feet unco