rs to the good.
One of the cowboys was winning, having taken in something like twenty
or thirty dollars since Conniston came in. The other two were playing
recklessly and with little skill, and were losing steadily. The fifth
man contented himself with small bets.

Presently the younger of the two cowboys, the fellow whom Conniston
had seen at the store in the afternoon, shoved his last two dollars
and a half onto the table, lost, and got to his feet, shrugging his
shoulders.

"Cleaned," he grunted, laconically. "Gimme a drink, Smiley."

He went to the bar with one lingering look behind him. And in another
play or two his companion followed him.

"No kind of luck, Jimmie," he said to the first to be "cleaned."
"Ain't it sure enough hell how steady a man can lose?"

"Bein' as my luck took a day off six months ago an' ain't showed up
yet," retorted Jimmie, "I guess I'd ought to had sense to leave
inves'ments like the bank alone. Only I ain't got the gumption. An'
I'm always figgerin' it's about time for my luck to git over her
vacation an' come back to work. How much did you drop, Bart?"

"Forty bucks," returned Bart, reaching for the whisky-bottle. "Which
same forty was all I had. Here's how."

"How," repeated his companion.

"I'm laying you a bet," said Conniston, quietly, coming toward them
from the table.

Jimmie put down his glass, stared reminiscently at it for a moment,
and then, lifting his eyebrows, turned to Conniston. "Evenin',
stranger. You might have made a remark?"

"If your luck has been working for other people for six months it's my
bet that it's on the way home to you right now! I don't mean any
offense, and I am not sure of your customs out here. But I'll stake
you to five dollars and take half what you win."

Jimmie grinned and put out his hand. "Which I call darn good custom,
East _or_ West!"

For a few minutes it looked as though Conniston's money were going to
retrieve the cowboy's losses. Jimmie had already twenty dollars in
front of him. And then a gambler's "hunch," a staking of everything on
one play, and Jimmie sat back with nothing to do but roll a cigarette.

"I might have giv' back your fiver a minute ago, but now--"

He ended by licking his brown cigarette-paper together. But his credit
was good with the bartender, and Conniston and Bart joined him in
having a drink.

"It looks like my luck had started back toward the home corrals all
right," said Jimmie, with a meditati