“Lass, it might be a thousand years for all you need worry,” he replied, his voice low and full.  Then it seemed, as she flung up her arms, that she was about to embrace him.  But her gesture was an appeal to the stars, to Heaven above, for something she did not speak.

Wade bade her good night and went his way.

* * * * *

The cowboys and the rancher’s son were about to engage in a game of poker when Wade entered the dimly lighted, smoke-hazed room.  Montana Jim was sticking tallow candles in the middle of a rude table; Lem was searching his clothes, manifestly for money; Bludsoe shuffled a greasy deck of cards, and Jack Belllounds was filling his pipe before a fire of blazing logs on the hearth.

“Dog-gone it!  I hed more money ’n thet,” complained Lem.  “Jim, you rode to Kremmlin’ last.  Did you take my money?”

“Wal, come to think of it, I reckon I did,” replied Jim, in surprise at the recollection.

“An’ whar’s it now?”

“Pard, I ‘ain’t no idee.  I reckon it’s still in Kremmlin’.  But I’ll pay you back.”

“I should smile you will.  Pony up now.”

“Bent Wade, did you come over calkilated to git skinned?” queried Bludsoe.

“Boys, I was playin’ poker tolerable well in Missouri when you all was nursin’,” replied Wade, imperturbably.

“I heerd he was a card-sharp,” said Jim.  “Wal, grab a box or a chair to set on an’ let’s start.  Come along, Jack; you don’t look as keen to play as usual.”

Belllounds stood with his back to the fire and his manner did not compare favorably with that of the genial cowboys.

“I prefer to play four-handed,” he said.

This declaration caused a little check in the conversation and put an end to the amiability.  The cowboys looked at one another, not embarrassed, but just a little taken aback, as if they had forgotten something that they should have remembered.

“You object to my playin’?” asked Wade, quietly.

“I certainly do,” replied Belllounds.

“Why, may I ask?”

“For all I know, what Montana said about you may be true,” returned Belllounds, insolently.

Such a remark flung in the face of a Westerner was an insult.  The cowboys suddenly grew stiff, with steady eyes on Wade.  He, however, did not change in the slightest.

“I might be a card-sharp at that,” he replied, coolly.  “You fellows play without me.  I’m not carin’ about poker any more.  I’ll look on.”

Thus he carried over the moment that might have been dangerous.  Lem gaped at him; Montana kicked a box forward to sit upon, and his action was expressive; Bludsoe slammed the cards down on the table and favored Wade with a comprehending look.  Belllounds pulled a chair up to the table.

“What’ll we make the limit?” asked Jim.

“Two bits,” replied Lem, quickly.

Then began an argument.  Belllounds was for a dollar limit.  The cowboys objected.