We had an early supper, and pressing in McCann to assist The Rebel in grazing the herd until our return, the cavalcade set out, Flood and the horse buyer with us.  My bunkie urged me to let him keep my money, but under the pretense of some of the outfit wanting to borrow it, I took it with me.  The race was to be catch weights, and as Rod Wheat was the lightest in our outfit, the riding fell to him.  On the way over I worked Bull Durham out to one side, and after explaining the jacketing I had got from Priest, and the partial promise I had made not to bet, gave him my forty dollars to wager for me if he got a chance.  Bull and I were good friends, and on the understanding that it was to be a secret, I intimated that some of the velvet would line his purse.  On reaching the tent, we found about half a dozen men loitering around, among them the old man, who promptly invited us all to have a drink with him.  A number of us accepted and took a chance against the vintage of this canvas roadhouse, though the warnings of the Montana horse buyer were fully justified by the quality of the goods dispensed.  While taking the drink, the old man was lamenting his poverty, which kept him from betting more money, and after we had gone outside, the saloonkeeper came and said to him, in a burst of generous feeling,—­

“Old sport, you’re a stranger to me, but I can see at a glance that you’re a dead game man.  Now, if you need any more money, just give me a bill of sale of your mare and mule, and I’ll advance you a hundred.  Of course I know nothing about the merits of the two horses, but I noticed your team as you drove up to-day, and if you can use any more money, just ask for it.”

The old man jumped at the proposition in delighted surprise; the two reentered the tent, and after killing considerable time in writing out a bill of sale, the old graybeard came out shaking a roll of bills at us.  He was promptly accommodated, Bull Durham making the first bet of fifty; and as I caught his eye, I walked away, shaking hands with myself over my crafty scheme.  When the old man’s money was all taken, the hangers-on of the place became enthusiastic over the betting, and took every bet while there was a dollar in sight amongst our crowd, the horse buyer even making a wager.  When we were out of money they offered to bet against our saddles, six-shooters, and watches.  Flood warned us not to bet our saddles, but Quarternight and Stallings had already wagered theirs, and were stripping them from their horses to turn them over to the saloonkeeper as stakeholder.  I managed to get a ten-dollar bet on my six-shooter, though it was worth double the money, and a similar amount on my watch.  When the betting ended, every watch and six-shooter in the outfit was in the hands of the stakeholder, and had it not been for Flood our saddles would have been in the same hands.