alted, and dragged him in a door way. "Who the devil are you?" he
asked roughly.

Briefly, passionately, almost hysterically, Flint told him his scant
story. An odd expression came over the gambler's face.

"Look here," he said abruptly, "I have passed my word to the crowd
yonder that you are a dead-broke miner called Fowler. I allowed that you
might have had some row with that Sydney duck, Australian Pete, in the
mines. That satisfied them. If I go back now, and say it's a lie, that
your name ain't Fowler, and you never knew who Pete was, they'll jest
pass you over to the police to deal with you, and wash their hands of it
altogether. You may prove to the police who you are, and how that d---
clerk mistook you, but it will give you trouble. And who is there here
who knows who you really are?"

"No one," said Flint, with sudden hopelessness.

"And you say you're an orphan, and ain't got any relations livin' that
you're beholden to?"

"No one."

"Then, take my advice, and BE Fowler, and stick to it! Be Fowler until
Fowler turns up, and thanks you for it; for you've saved Fowler's life,
as Pete would never have funked and lost his grit over Fowler as he did
with you; and you've a right to his name."

He stopped, and the same odd, superstitious look came into his dark
eyes.

"Don't you see what all that means? Well, I'll tell you. You're in the
biggest streak of luck a man ever had. You've got the cards in your own
hand! They spell 'Fowler'! Play Fowler first, last, and all the time.
Good-night, and good luck, MR. FOWLER."

The next morning's journal contained an account of the justifiable
killing of the notorious desperado and ex-convict, Australian Pete, by
a courageous young miner by the name of Fowler. "An act of firmness
and daring," said the "Pioneer," "which will go far to counteract the
terrorism produced by those lawless ruffians."

In his new suit of clothes, and with this paper in his hand, Flint
sought the dry-goods proprietor--the latter was satisfied and convinced.
That morning Harry Flint began his career as salesman and as "Shelby
Fowler."

From that day Shelby Fowler's career was one of uninterrupted
prosperity. Within the year he became a partner. The same miraculous
fortune followed other ventures later. He was mill owner, mine owner,
bank director--a millionaire! He was popular, the reputation of his
brief achievement over the desperado kept him secure from the attack of
envy and rivalr