rd is law, m'lord," he said, once more rigid and unbending.

Although Packard knew this very well without being told and had known
it a good many years before Guy Little had been born, and although Guy
Little had repeated the phrase time without number, the old man
accepted it peacefully as a necessary though utterly damnable
introduction.

"It's like this," continued the mechanician. "Not knowin' what you
thought an' not even knowin' what you wanted to think, an' figgerin' to
play safe, I've picked up the dope all over. Which is sayin' I bought
drinks on both sides the street, whiskey at Whitey Wimble's joint an'
more of the same at Dan Hodges's. An' I foun' out several things,
m'lord. If it is your wish----"

"Spit 'em out, Guy Little! What for a man is he?"

"Firs'," said Guy Little, shifting his feet the fraction of an inch so
that his chin bore directly upon Packard, "he's a scrapper. He beat up
Joe Woods, a bigger man than him; later he took part in some sort of a
party durin' which, like is beknown to you, somebody gouged Blenham's
eye out; after that, single-handed, he cleaned out your lumber-camp,
fifteen men countin' Blenham. Tally one, he's a scrapper."

For an instant it seemed that all of the light there was in the swiftly
darkening room had centred in the blue eyes under the old man's bushy
white brows. He drew deeply upon his pipe.

"Go on, Guy Little," he ordered. "What more? Spit it out, man."

"Nex'," reported the little man, "he's a born gambler. If he wasn't he
wouldn't of tied into a game of buckin' you; he wouldn't of played
seven-an'-a-half like he did in at the Ace of Diamonds; he wouldn't of
took them long chances tacklin' Woodsy's timberjacks before breakfas'.
Scrapper an' gambler. That's tally one an' two."

The old man frowned heavily, his teeth remaining tight clamped on his
pipestem as he cried sharply:

"That's it! You've said it: gambler! Drat the boy, I knowed he had it
in his blood. An' it'll ruin him, ruin him. Guy Little, as it would
ruin any man. We got to get that fool gamblin' spirit out'n him. A
man that's always takin' chances never gets anywhere; take a chance an'
you ain't got a chance! That's the way of it, Guy Little! Go on,
though. What else about him?"

"He's a good sport," went on the news-gatherer, "an' he don't ask no
help from nobody. He stan's on his two feet like a man, m'lord. When
he sees a row ahead he don't go to the law with it;