d dollars a few minutes before, were all partners
with the sharper and probably at this moment were dividing his sixty
dollars--the price of old Slop-eye--between them.

Early next morning he was awake and astir. The recollection of his
loss sent a sudden pang through his morning spirits, but he tried to
close his mind to it. "No use worryin' over that," he said, jingling
the few coins that now represented his wealth. "That's over and gone.
I traded sixty dollars for my first lesson. Maybe it was a bad trade,
but anyway, I ain't goin' to squeal." He turned that thought over in
his mind. It suddenly occurred to him that it expressed a principle
which he might very well weave into his new life. "If I can jus' get
that idea, an' live up to it," he said, "never to squeal, no matter
what hits me, nor how, I guess it's worth sixty dollars." He whistled
as he finished dressing, ate his breakfast cheerfully, and set out in
search of employment.

CHAPTER FIVE

Almost the first person he met was the stranger who had schooled him in
the gambling game the night before. He greeted Dave cordially; his
voice had a soft, sedulous, almost feminine quality which Dave had not
noticed in their whispered conversation in the pool room. There was
something attractive about his personality; something which invited
friendship and even confidence, and yet beneath these emotions Dave
felt a sense of distrust, as though part of his nature rebelled against
the acquaintanceship.

"That was the rottenest luck you had last night," the stranger was
saying. "I never saw the beat of it. I knew you were wrong the moment
you had your hand down, but I couldn't butt in then. I was hoping
you'd stay and raise him next time; you might have got your money back
that way."

"Oh, I don't mind the money," said Dave, cheerfully. "I don't want it
back. In fact, I figure it was pretty well spent."

"Lots more where it came from, eh?" laughed the other. "You're from
the ranches, I see, and I suppose the price of a steer or two doesn't
worry you a hair's worth."

"_From_ is right," Dave replied. "I'm from them, an' I'm not goin'
back. As for money--well, I spent my last nickle for breakfast, so
I've got to line up a job before noon."

The stranger extended his hand. "Shake," he said. "I like you.
You're no squealer, anyway. My name is Conward. Yours?"

Dave told his name, and shook hands. Conward offered his cigarette
box, and th