to pick and choose. And he
began to think, after he had started work there, that folks had been
mistaken. He liked the place, and it seemed permanent. He even went
back to the Dream and refurbished it a bit. And then he learned that
the superintendent didn't like him. The superintendent, it appeared,
could never bring himself to care much for any man whose scruples were
too flourishing. That's what Blue Jeans had heard and almost begun to
disbelieve. Everybody had heard it except the Dee & Zee syndicate
owners themselves. But that did him small good. He doubted no longer,
however. He quit. He resigned by request.

But when he thought to collect the little pay due him, he experienced
difficulty. He made a desperate effort and crowded the issue
perilously. When, however, in the face of superior numbers and their
eagerness for him to insist, he realized that he would be in no
condition to enjoy the money, even if he did succeed in collecting it,
he did the thing of indubitable valor. He gave it up gracefully. A
coward would have been ashamed to back down, and thus got himself
thoroughly killed. He laughed. And moved his right hand further from
his holster.

But this time he had waxed stubborn; he had refused to let his Dream
grow dim.

And the Box-A people--three weeks later they could have used him. And
would have. He knew it. A man had been badly hurt; so badly that he
would never know anything any more. They could have used him, only the
superintendent had just passed that way and outstripped him. They were
too busy, therefore, with sober work, too harmonious among themselves,
to risk a firebrand.

"A firebrand? Him!"

He had tried to laugh again, but he knew that his laughter was hollow.
It is hard to be blithe and all but broke. Nor had he pled this latter
state to urge himself upon them. Anybody could draw that conclusion
now, if he wanted to, just from the look of his clothes.

He'd tried Claiborne--town. Little jobs they had offered him
there--menial! And that had made him rebellious.

Thus by well-defined stages, and hugging now his Dream, to the
stud-poker game.

All that he possessed he'd sold and put it on this venture; all but his
saddle and bridle and gun, and Girl o' Mine. He played stud-poker
well; better than most men he knew; and that was no empty conceit,
either. He just did. Some men's judgment was quicker, surer than
others, that was all.

And he had played we