“Weakening, eh?” sneered Dewing.

“That’s enough, Pete,” said Boland, very much vexed.  “We’re playing table stakes.  This is no way to do.  Show what you’ve got and let’s get out of this.”

“You let me be!” snapped Pete.  “No, Dewing; I’m not weakening.  About how much cash have you got in your roll?”

“About fourteen hundred in the house.  More in the bank if you’re really on the peck.  And I paid three thousand cash for this place.”

“And I’ve got maybe fifty or sixty dollars with me.  You see how it is,” said Pete.  “But I’ve got a good ranch and a bunch of cattle, if you happen to know anything about them.”

“Pete!  Pete!  That’s enough,” urged Boland.

Pete shook him off.

“Mind your own business, will you?” he snapped.  “I’m going to show Mr. Something Dewing how it feels.”

The gambler smiled coldly.  “Johnson, you’re an old blowhard!  If you really want to make a man-size bet on that hand of yours, I’ll make you a proposition.”

“Bet on it?  Bet on this hand?” snarled Pete, clutching his cards tightly.  “I’d bet everything I’ve got on this hand.”

“We’ll see about that.  I may be wrong, but I seem to have heard that you and young Mitchell have found a copper claim that’s pretty fair, and a little over.  I believe it, anyhow.  And I’m willing to take the risk that you’ll keep your word.  I’ll shoot the works on this hand—­cash, bank roll, and the joint, against a quarter interest in your mine.”

“Son,” said Johnson, “I wouldn’t sell you one per cent of my share of that mine for all you’ve got.  Come again!”

The gambler laughed contemptuously.  “That’s easy enough said,” he taunted.  “If you want to wiggle out of it that way, all right!”

Pete raised a finger.

“Not so fast.  I don’t remember that I’ve wiggled any yet.  I don’t want your money or your saloon.  In mentioning my mine you have set an example of plain speaking which I intend to follow.  I do hereby believe that you can clear Stanley Mitchell of the charge hanging over him.  If you can, I’ll bet you a one-quarter interest in our mine against that evidence.  I’ll take your word if you’ll take mine, and I’ll give you twelve hours’ start before I make your confession public.—­Boland, you mind your own business.  I’m doing this.—­Well, Dewing, how about it?”

“If you think I’ve got evidence to clear Stanley—­”

“I do.  I think you did the trick yourself, likely.”

“You might as well get one thing in your head, first as last:  if I had any such evidence and made any such a bet—­I’d win it!  You may be sure of that.  So you’d be no better off so far as getting your pardner out of trouble is concerned—­and you lose a slice of mining property.  If you really think I can give you any such evidence, why not trade me an interest in the mine for it?”

“I’m not buying, I’m betting!  Who’s wiggling now?”