ll last night. But he could not overcome with
nerve what he had lacked in capital. Five cards and many dollars oft
will beat a better hand. But his dollars had been few. So had he
tested again a time-tried truth, and proved it. A man should not
gamble at all; that is, not when he needs to win. For then he was sure
to lose. That was why they called luck a lady.

Clink your money in your pocket and not care whether you won or lost,
and she'd fair swarm upon you. She wouldn't _let_ you be! Nothing was
too good for you--you were a king! Two deuces and a lazy smile would
bluff a brace of aces.

But just you let her guess that your straits were desperate. Just you
let her guess that your last dollar was on the table! You couldn't
catch a pair back to back in forty-seven years. She'd quit you flat!

That was why they called luck a lady. Just like a woman!

And he had lost less composedly than they had suspected from his face
and comment. He had gone, then, still early, to bed to escape their
torment. It was not often that they had found him so completely at
their mercy, and they made the most of it.

And he'd risen and ridden out at dawn toward Reservoir. Reservoir
would offer nothing; but it was on the road he meant to travel, and
water was to be had there. He rode early because he did not choose
that any of his pitiless opponents of the night before should surmise
that the torn, worn jeans and old cracked boots and shirt with a rent
in the elbow was not merely his working garb, worn informally because
he had not wanted to waste time in changing and slicking up, but the
only garb he owned.

If they had believed his decent outfit to be rolled in the blanket
behind his saddle, let them. He'd not disillusion them. Then they'd
not come around, embarrassing him and themselves as well, with awkward
offers of a loan.

He rode at daybreak, and in the splendor of that desert dawn forgot for
a time to be desolate. Girl o' Mine stepped smartly in the early cool.
He had paid for her breakfast before he tried at poker. He forgot
himself, and presently he raised a light-hearted carol to the shuffle,
shuffle, shuffle of her hoofs.

"Daughters of Pleasure, one and all,
Of form and feature delicate,
Of bodies slim and bosoms small,
With feet and fingers white and straight,
Your eyes are bright, your grace is great,
To hold your lover's heart in thrall;
Use your red lips before too late,