of the way."

Benito turned an almost furtive glance on his companion. "Not yet," ...
he answered hastily, "a thousand pardons, senor. I have other
errands here."

He nodded half impatiently and made his way along the embarcadero. Spear
saw him turn into the drinking place of Cooper.

A stranger caught Spear's glance and smiled significantly. "I saw the
lad last night at poker with a crowd that's not above a crooked deal....
Someone should stop him." In the voice was tentative suggestion.

"I've no authority," Spear answered shortly. He turned his back upon the
other and strode toward the plaza.

CHAPTER II

THE GAMBLED PATRIMONY

The stranger took his way toward the waterfront and into "Jack the
Sailor's." Cooper, who had earned this nickname, stood behind a counter
of rough boards polishing its top with a much soiled towel. He hailed
the newcomer eagerly. "Hello, Alvin Potts! What brought you here? And
how is all at Monterey?"

"All's well enough," said Potts, concisely. He glanced about. Several
crude structures, scarcely deserving the name of tables, were centers of
interest for rings of rough and ill-assorted men. There were
loud-voiced, bearded fellows from the whaler's crew. In tarpaulins and
caps pulled low upon their brows; swarthy Russians with oily, brutish
faces and slow movements--relics of the abandoned colony at Fort Ross;
suave, soft-spoken Spaniards in broad-brimmed hats, braided short coats
and laced trousers tucked into shining boots; vaqueros with colored
handkerchiefs about their heads and sashes around their middles. A few
Americans were sprinkled here and there. Usually one player at each
table was of the sleek and graceful type, which marks the gambler. And
usually he was the winner. Now and then a man threw down his cards,
pushed a little pile of money to the center of the table and shuffled
out. Cooper passed between them, serving tall, black bottles from which
men poured their potions according to impulse; they did not drink in
unison. Each player snatched a liquid stimulus when the need arose. And
one whose shaky nerves required many of these spurs was young Benito.

Potts observed the pale face and the hectic, burning eyes with a
frowning disapproval. Presently he drew John Cooper to one side.

"He's no business here, that lad ... you know it, Jack," Potts said,
accusingly. The saloon keeper threw wide his arms in a significant
gesture.

"He won't stay away ... I've told h