“‘Cherokee does right,’ says Nell to Dan, ’like Cherokee allers does.  An’ I’ll do the same as Cherokee.  Stranger,’ goes on Nell, turnin’ from Dan to this Holliday; ’go as far as you likes.  The bridle’s off the hoss.’

“‘An’ much obleeged to you, Miss!’ says this Holliday, with another of them p’lite bows.  ’As the kyards goes in the box, I makes you the same three bets I makes first to Mister Hall.  Ten thousand, coppered, in the pot; ten thousand, open, in the big squar’; an’ ten thousand on the high kyard, coppered.’

“‘An’ now as then,’ says Nell, sort o’ catchin’ her breath, ’the ten-spot’s the soda kyard!’

“Son, it won’t happen ag’in in a billion years!  Nell’s right hand shakes a trifle—­she’s only a child, mind, an’ ain’t got the nerves that goes with case-hardened sports—­as she shoves the ten-spot forth.  But it’s comin’ her way; her luck holds; as certain as we all sets yere drinkin’ toddy, the same two kyards shows for her as for Cherokee, but this time they falls ‘king-seven’; the bank wins, an’ pore Holliday is cleaned out.

“‘Thar, Cherokee,’ says Nell, an’ thar’s a soft smile an’ a sigh of deep content goes with the observation, ’thar’s your bank ag’in; only it’s thirty thousand stronger than it is four hours ago.’

“‘Your bank, ladybird, you means!’ says Cherokee.

“‘Well, our bank, then,’ retorts Nell.  ’What’s the difference?  Don’t you-all tell me we’re partners?’ Then Nell motions to Black Jack.  ‘The drinks is on me, Jack,’ she says; ’see what the house will have.’”

CHAPTER IV.

How The Raven Died.

“Which if you-all is out to hear of Injuns, son,” observed the Old Cattleman, doubtfully, “the best I can do is shet my eyes an’ push along regyardless, like a cayouse in a storm of snow.  But I don’t guarantee no facts; none whatever!  I never does bend myse’f to severe study of savages an’ what notions I packs concernin’ ’em is the casual frootes of what I accidental hears an’ what I sees.  It’s only now an’ then, as I observes former, that Injuns invades Wolfville; an’ when they does, we-all scowls ’em outen camp—­sort o’ makes a sour front, so as to break ‘em early of habits of visitin’ us.  We shore don’t hone none to have ’em hankerin’ ’round.

“Nacherally, I makes no doubt that if you goes clost to Injuns an’ studies their little game you finds some of ’em good an’ some bad, some gaudy an’ some sedate, some cu’rous an’ some indifferent, same as you finds among shore-enough folks.  It’s so with mules an’ broncos; wherefore, then, may not these differences exist among Injuns?  Come squar’ to the turn, you-all finds white folks separated the same.  Some gents follows off one waggon track an’ some another; some even makes a new trail.