r the black horse. And because he
had come to understand Pat and to appreciate him, he hated to think of
the horse's serving under this bloodless man opposite. Pat's life under
this man would be a life of misery. It was so with all of Johnson's
horses. Either they died early, or else, as in the case of the little
gray, their spirits sank under his cruelty to an ebb so low that nothing
short of another horse, and one obviously capable of rendering
successful protection, roused them to an interest in their own welfare.
This was why the little gray, he recalled, had approached the black the
first night after reaching the shack. Evidently she had recognized in
him an able protector, should he care to protect her, against the
brutality of her master. And so to play a game of cards, or anything
else, with a view to losing possession--

"I don't hear you saying!" cut in the cold voice of the other upon his
thoughts. "Ain't the stakes right?"

Jim looked up. "I guess so," he said. "I'm tryin' to figure--percentages
and the like."

Again he relapsed into thought. He feared this man as he feared a snake.
For Johnson had a grip on him in many ways, and in ways unpleasant to
recall. So he knew that to refuse meant a volley of invectives that
would end in his losing the horse anyway, losing him by force, and a
later treatment of the animal, through sheer spite, the brutality of
which he did not like to contemplate. So he did not reply; he did not
dare to say yes or no. Either way, the horse was gone. For Johnson was
clever with the cards, fiendishly clever, and when playing recognized no
law save crookedness.

"Jim," burst out Johnson, controlling himself evidently with effort, "I
want to ask you something. I want you to tell me something. I want you
to tell me who it was grubstaked you that winter you needed grubstaking
mighty bad. I want you to tell me who it was got you out of that scrape
over in Lincoln County two years ago. I want you to tell me who it was
took care of you last winter--under mighty trying circumstances,
too--and put you in the way of easy money this spring! But you needn't
tell me," he suddenly concluded, picking up the cards savagely. "I know
who it was without your telling me, and you know who it was without my
telling you. And now what's the returns? When I give you a chance to
come back a little--in a dead-square, open game of cards--you crawl into
your shell and act like I'd asked you to step on the ga