his purpose, and crush it to a
weak yielding such as, in their minds, was the only possible thing for
a man of his like.

"You set them bills right back in your dip," he cried, with a
savageness that was only a mask to his real feelings; "I don't need
'em. You ken get right out to the barn an' have your pick o' my plugs,
an' anythin' you need else. Guess you best take the black mare. She'll
carry you all day for a week, sure, an' then laff at you. Get right
on, an'--an'--good luck!"

There are actions performed in every man's life for which he can
never account, even to himself. Such was the act Wild Bill performed
at that moment. Gambling was his living, but his horses were a passion
with him. He possessed, perhaps, some of the finest in the country,
and he worshiped them. He had never been known to lend a horse to his
best friend, and no one but himself had ever been allowed to feed or
groom them. He was prouder of them than a father might be of his
firstborn son, and as careful of them as any doting mother. Therefore
his assent to Scipio's request was quite staggering to his companions.
Nor did he know why he did it, and a furious anger followed
immediately upon this unusual outburst of good-nature.

Scipio was profuse in his thanks. But he was cut short with a violence
that seemed quite unnecessary. For the moment, at least, Bill hated
the little man almost as much as he hated this "Lord" James he was
setting out in search of.

After that no word passed until Scipio had left the store for the
barn. Bill sat wrapt in moody thought, his fierce eyes lowered in
contemplation of his well-shod feet. His cards were forgotten, the men
around him were forgotten. Sandy and the storekeeper were watching his
harsh face in wonder, while Toby's head was turned in the direction of
the departing man. It was Sunny Oak from his post at the window who
finally broke the silence.

"Guess you gone plumb 'bug,' Bill," he said, with an amiable grin.
Then, as only a flicker of a smile from the others answered him, and
Bill ignored his charge altogether, he hurried on, "You're helpin'
that misguided feller to a dose of lead he'll never have time to
digest. If ever Zip runs foul of James, he'll blow him to hell as
sure--as ther's allus work for those as don't need it. An', wot's
more, you'll never set eyes on your black mare agin, 'less it's under
James' saddle. You're sure 'bug.' You oughter be seen to."

It was only Sunny Oak who wo