Frank would follow any one who would lead. He got up and came to
the table where Bud was dividing the money into two equal sums,
as nearly as he could make change. What was left over--and
that was the three dollars and twenty cents--he tossed into the
can of tobacco on a shelf.

"We'll let that ride--to sober up on, if we go broke," he
grunted. "Come on--let's get action."

Action, of a sort, they proceeded to get. Luck brought luck of
the same complexion. They won in fluctuating spells of good cards
and judicious teamwork. They did not cheat, though Frank was
ready if Bud had led him that way. Frank was ready for anything
that Bud suggested. He drank when Bud drank, went from the first
saloon to the one farther down and across the street, returned to
the first with cheerful alacrity and much meaningless laughter
when Bud signified a desire to change. It soothed Bud and
irritated him by turns, this ready acquiescence of Frank's. He
began to take a malicious delight in testing that acquiescence.
He began to try whether he could not find the end of Frank's
endurance in staying awake, his capacity for drink, his good
nature, his credulity--he ran the scale of Frank's various
qualifications, seeking always to establish a well-defined
limitation somewhere.

But Frank was utterly, absolutely plastic. He laughed and drank
when Bud suggested that they drink. He laughed and played
whatever game Bud urged him into. He laughed and agreed with Bud
when Bud made statements to test the credulity of anyman. He
laughed and said,"Sure. Let's go!" when Bud pined for a change of