as no longer for him, that his chosen tools lacked edge.
The placing of bets ceased, there was no sound of clicking chips, the
roulette dealer held the wheel, expectant, dealer and case-keeper at the
faro bank halted their manipulations, the presiding genius of the craps
layout picked up the dice. Tragedy hovered, the shadow of its wing was
on the dirt floor of the rude Temple of Chance.

"The chaps you sent up to move yore tent an' truck didn't make a good
job of it, Plimsoll," drawled Sandy. "I reckon they warn't the right
so't of help. Ef you-all are aimin' to take that stuff erlong with you
I'd recommend you 'tend to it yorese'f. It's gettin' erlong to'ards
sun-up, fast as a clock can tick."

Silence held. Sandy stood non-committal, at ease. His conversation with
Plimsoll might have been of the friendliest nature gauged by his
attitude. His hands were on his hips. Back of him, slightly turning
toward the crowd, were Mormon and Sam, smilingly surveying the room. But
not one there but knew that, faster than the ticking of a clock, guns
might gleam and spurt fire and lead in case of trouble. It was all
being done ethically enough. They did not know exactly what the entrance
of Wyatt meant, but Sandy's talk gave them a hint and his poise was
correct, without swagger, without intent to start general ruction. It
was up to Plimsoll.

"I'll attend to my own business in my own way," said the gambler,
knowing the room weighed every word. It was a non-committal statement
and a light one, but it passed the situation for the moment. His eyes
shifted to Wyatt, shining with hate, the whites blood-flecked by
suppressed passion.

Sandy pulled out a gunmetal watch.

"I make it half afteh one. 'Bout three hours to sunrise, Plimsoll. I'll
be round later." He turned his back on the gambler and sauntered toward
the door. Before the general restraint broke Mormon put up his hand.

"I figger Roarin' Russell ain't in the room," he said. "Ef he happens
erlong, some of you might tell him I was lookin' fo' him. An' I'm goin'
to keep on lookin'," he added.

There was a laugh that swelled into a roar of approval in the general
reaction.

"Good for you!" A dozen phrases of commendation chimed and jangled. A
few followed the three out into the street, among them, Wyatt.

"I got a hunch it ain't extry healthy fo' me in there," he said. "A
gamblin' parlor where I ain't welcome to stay or play makes no hit with
me. I'll help you-all find R