oapy's eyes.
"Different here," he explained in a quiet businesslike way. All his chips
were pushed forward to the center of the table.

On Blackwell's face were mapped his thoughts. Curly saw his stodgy mind
working on the problem, studying helplessly the poker eyes of his easy
placid enemy. Was Soapy bluffing? Or had he baited a hook for him to
swallow? The faintest glimmer of amusement drifted across the face of
Stone. He might have been a general whose plans have worked out to suit
him, waiting confidently for certain victory. The longer the convict
looked at him the surer he was that he had been trapped.

With an oath he laid down his hand. "You've got me beat. Mine is only a
jack high straight."

Stone put down his cards and reached for the pot.

Curly laughed.

Blackwell whirled on him.

"What's so condemned funny?"

"The things I notice."

"Meaning?"

"That I wouldn't have laid down my hand."

"Betcher ten plunks he had me beat."

"You're on." Curly turned to Soapy. "Object to us seeing your hand?"

Stone was counting his chips. He smiled. "It ain't poker, but go ahead.
Satisfy yourselves."

"You turn the cards," Flandrau said.

A king of diamonds showed first, then a ten-spot and a six-spot of the
same suit.

"A flush," exulted Blackwell.

"I've got just one more ten left, but it says you're wrong."

The words were not out of Curly's mouth before the other had taken the
bet. Soapy looked at Flandrau with a new interest. Perhaps this boy was
not such a youth as he had first seemed.

The fourth card turned was a king of hearts, the last a six of spades.
Stone had had two pair to go on and had not bettered at the draw.

Blackwell tossed down two bills and went away furious.

That night was like a good many that followed. Sam was at an
impressionable age, inclined to be led by any man whom he admired. Curly
knew that he could gain no influence over him by preaching. He had to live
the rough-and-tumble life of these men who dwelt beyond the pale of the
law, to excel them at the very things of which they boasted. But in one
respect he held himself apart. While he was at the horse ranch he did not
touch a drop of liquor.

Laura London's letter was not delivered until the second day, for, though
she had not told her messenger to give it to Sam when he was alone, Curly
guessed this would be better. The two young men had ridden down to Big
Tree spring to get quail for supper.

"Letter for you