that nothing but
the loss of all his hoard would cool it again.

Slavens nervously counted down twenty-five dollars again, keeping the
remainder of his winnings in his hand, as if ready to take chance on the
jump.

A man must have it given to him both ways in order to key him up to the
right place, Hun Shanklin knew. All winning would no more do than all
loss. So this time the loaded dice were switched into the box, and the
charmed number came out again.

"Hold on! Hold on!" protested the bettor as Shanklin started to sweep
the money away with one hand and gather in his tricky dice with the
other. For Hun never left those dice any longer on the board than
necessary.

Slavens threw himself forward on the table, his elbows spread,
scrutinizing the dice as if he had not yet figured the total.

"Yes; you win this time," said he grudgingly, removing his hand from his
stake, but dropping the money which he clutched in his fist at the same
time.

With fatherly kindness Shanklin admonished him to hold on to his money,
and helped him pick it up. And, sharp as his old eye was, he did not see
that one of his precious dice, hidden under a bill, had changed places
with another, which had waited that moment in the doctor's hand.

The others around the table had given the game over to the amazing
sheep-herder who seemed to have so much cash. They stood by, gaping and
exclaiming, growing hotter and hotter with the fever all the time
themselves, licking their dry lips, feeling of their money, getting
ready to pitch into it as soon as the film of chance had thickened a
little on their eyes, shutting out reason entirely.

Slavens straightened up and gave his backer two gentle prods in the
ribs, which was the signal agreed upon to let the other know that the
scheme was in working order, and that something was due to happen. He
counted down one hundred dollars and stood expectant, while Shanklin
held his hand over the mouth of the dicebox and looked at him with
contemptuous reproach.

"No, you don't! No, you don't!" said Hun. "If you want to play this
man's game you got to shove up some money of your own. That money's my
money, and you've been shovin' it on and draggin' it off so much I'm
afraid you'll wear it out if you keep on.

"It's mine, I tell you! Every cent of it's mine! If you got any of your
own put it up, and then I'll roll 'em. If you got a hundred to pile on
top of that, or five hundred, or ten hundred, come on and