rode directly to the first hotel, the only two-story structure in
town, and around to the rear where he put up his horse and left his
saddle, chaps and slicker pack in the care of the barn man.

He received instructions as to the location of the best barber shop
and speedily wended his way there. He found Sunday was not observed in
the barber shop, nor in the resort which adjoined it.

"Any chance to get a bath here?" he asked one of the two barbers with
a twinkle in his gray eyes.

He expected a snort of astonishment and a sarcastic reply.

"Sure. Want it first or after?"

Rathburn eyed the barber suspiciously. Was the man poking fun at him?
Well, he was not a stranger to repartee.

"First or after what?" he asked, scowling.

"Your shave and hair cut."

Rathburn laughed. "I'll take it first--if you have it. An' if you
have, I'll say this is a first-class barber shop."

The barber led the way to a room in the rear of the place with a
pleased grin.

An hour or so later Rathburn, with the lower part of his face a shade
paler than the upper half, his dark hair showing neatly under his
broad-brimmed hat, his black riding boots glistening, and a satisfied
smile on his face, sauntered out of the barber shop into the resort
next door.

A man was lighting the hanging lamps, and Rathburn looked about
through a haze of tobacco smoke at a cluster of crowded gaming tables,
a short bar, cigar counter, and at the motley throng which jammed the
small room.

He grinned as he read the sign over the cash register:

FREE DRINKS TO-MORROW

"Swiped in broad daylight from the grand old State of Texas," he
murmured aloud to himself.

Then he noticed a small restaurant in the rear of the place, separated
from the main room by a partition, the upper part of which was glass.

He made his way back, passed through the door, and took a seat at the
counter which afforded him a view of the resort through the glass. He
ordered a substantial meal and, while waiting for it to be served,
studied with calculating eyes the scene in the next room.

The men were mostly of the hills--miners constituting the majority. Of
professional gamblers there were many, and there was also a plentiful
sprinkling of that despicable species known as "boosters" whose
business it is to sit in at the games in the interest of "the house;"
to fleece the victims who occupy the few remaining seats.

But now he saw a man who apparently was not a miner, or a