other one."

In an instant the gambler's hand swept beneath his jacket, but it was a
mistaken move, for as swiftly the other hard brown fingers closed upon
the pile of bills, and the men, too astonished to murmur, saw Winston
leaning very grim in face across the table. Then it tilted over
beneath him and the cards were on the gambler's knees, while, as the
two men rose and faced each other, something glinted in the hands of
one of them.

It is more than probable that the man did not intend to use it, and
trusted to its moral effect, for the display of pistols is not regarded
with much toleration on the Canadian prairie. In any case, he had not
the opportunity, for in another moment Winston's right hand had closed
upon his wrist and the gambler was struggling fruitlessly to extricate
it. He was a muscular man, with, doubtless, a sufficiency of nerve,
but he had not toiled with his arms and led a Spartan life for eight
long years. Before another few seconds had passed he was wondering
whether he would ever use that wrist again, while Dane picked up the
fallen pistol and put it in his pocket with the bundle of bills Winston
handed him.

"Now," said the latter, "I want to do the square thing. If you'll let
us strip you and turn out your pockets, we'll see you get any winnings
you're entitled to when we've straightened up the cards."

The gambler was apparently not willing, for, though it is possible he
would have found it advisable to play an honest game across the
frontier, he had evidently surmised that there was less risk of
detection among the Canadian farmers. He probably knew they would not
wait long for his consent, but in the first stages of the altercation
it is not as a rule insuperably difficult for a fearless man to hold
his own against an indignant company who have no definite notion of
what they mean to do, and it was to cover his retreat he turned to
Winston.

"And who the ---- are you?" he asked.

Winston smiled grimly. "I guess you have heard of me. Any way, there
are a good many places in Montana where they know Lance Courthorne.
Quite sure I know a straight game when I see it!"

The man's resistance vanished, but he had evidently been taught the
necessity of making the best of defeat in his profession, and he
laughed as he swept his glance around at the angry faces turned upon
him.

"If you don't there's nobody does," he said. "Still, as you've got my
pistol and 'most dislocated my wri