your
work is very coarse!" He swept the heap of chips to his side of the
table with the barrel of his revolver. "You'll find his real hand in his
sleeve, Red. No, not that one--there's where he has the knife; the cards
are in the left sleeve."

"Did you really think I was that easy?" he said reproachfully to the
discomfited gambler, as McVey laid the bowie and secreted cards on the
table. "Why, you've even misjudged your own hold-out--see!" He rapidly
took up his opponent's hand and spread them face up before the
astonished eyes of the gambler. There were only three, instead of four
aces, with a jack and deuce. "I had you beat on the showdown, Bart.
Really, I am surprised!" Then to the profane delight of Red, he
carelessly opened his hand, exposing the missing ace which he had
adroitly palmed. The spectators to a man laughed and after a moment
Coogan joined in the hilarity. He was really a man of big caliber and he
felt an unwilling admiration of this audacious youngster who had so
cleverly hoisted him with his own petard. Besides, there is a certain
wisdom of magnanimity in defeat.

"You've got me going and coming!" he admitted, laughingly; "I ain't got
no kick coming." But his eyes wandered uneasily to the letters and hides
on the floor and Douglass was generous.

He took the bowie knife and with three rapid circular slashes cut out
those parts branded; upon these he laid the package of letters and held
them out to the gambler together with his knife. He took them
mechanically, staring incredulously at the cowpuncher, who said not
unkindly:

"I reckon you've got more use for these than I have. But if I were you
I'd keep out of the cattle business; the game isn't worth the candle!"
Big Bart went over and tossed the bits of skin and the incriminating
letters into the heart of the little coal fire blazing in the office
stove. When they were finally consumed he turned to Red, who was nearest
the door.

"Call in all your outfit and tell Billy to send in a basket of wine."
With his own hand he filled the glasses and then turned to the waiting
throng with uplifted beaker:

"To the new owner of the O Bar O!"

They drank it vociferously and when the bottles were finally empty
Coogan passed around the cigars. Douglass, though fully aware of the
man's uncanny past, felt for the now apparently despondent wretch the
involuntary pity which the huntsman feels always for the dangerous tiger
which he has laid low after a ti