yourself--hard. I've seen a
few in my time, and I ain't fastidious so as you can notice it. But
let me tell you right not that I'm worth the devil alone knows how many
millions, and that I'd sure give it all, right here on the bar, to turn
down your hand. Which means I'd give the whole shooting match just to
be back where I was before I quit sleeping under the stars and come
into the hen-coops of cities to drink cocktails and lift up my feet and
ride. Son, that's that's the matter with me, and that's the way I feel
about it. The game ain't worth the candle. You just take care of
yourself, and roll my advice over once in a while. Good night."

He turned and lurched out of the place, the moral effect of his
utterance largely spoiled by the fact that he was so patently full
while he uttered it.

Still in a daze, Daylight made to his hotel, accomplished his dinner,
and prepared for bed.

"The damned young whippersnapper!" he muttered. "Put my hand down easy
as you please. My hand!"

He held up the offending member and regarded it with stupid wonder.
The hand that had never been beaten! The hand that had made the Circle
City giants wince! And a kid from college, with a laugh on his face,
had put it down--twice! Dede was right. He was not the same man. The
situation would bear more serious looking into than he had ever given
it. But this was not the time. In the morning, after a good sleep, he
would give it consideration.

CHAPTER XXII

Daylight awoke with the familiar parched mouth and lips and throat,
took a long drink of water from the pitcher beside his bed, and
gathered up the train of thought where he had left it the night before.
He reviewed the easement of the financial strain. Things were mending
at last. While the going was still rough, the greatest dangers were
already past. As he had told Hegan, a tight rein and careful playing
were all that was needed now. Flurries and dangers were bound to come,
but not so grave as the ones they had already weathered. He had been
hit hard, but he was coming through without broken bones, which was
more than Simon Dolliver and many another could say. And not one of
his business friends had been ruined. He had compelled them to stay in
line to save himself, and they had been saved as well.

His mind moved on to the incident at the corner of the bar of the
Parthenon, when the young athlete had turned his hand down. He was no
longer stunned by the e