could all play.

"I don't care for seven-up," Miss Bridger quelled, speaking to him
for the first time since Billy returned. "I want to learn this game
that--er--Billy knows." There was a slight hesitation on the name,
which was the only one she knew to call him by.

The Pilgrim grunted and retired to the stove, rattled the lids
ill-naturedly and smoked a vile cigar which he had brought from town.
After that he sat and glowered at the two.

Billy did the best he could to make the time pass quickly. He had
managed to seat Miss Bridger so that her back was toward the stove and
the Pilgrim, and he did it so unobtrusively that neither guessed his
reason. He taught her coon-can, two-handed whist and Chinese solitaire
before a gray lightening outside proclaimed that the night was over.
Miss Bridger, heavy-eyed and languid, turned her face to the window;
Billy swept the cards together and stacked them with an air of
finality.

"I guess we can hit the trail now without losing ourselves," he
remarked briskly. "Pilgrim, come on out and help me saddle up; we'll
see if that old skate of yours is able to travel."

The Pilgrim got up sullenly and went out, and Billy followed him
silently. His own horse had stood with the saddle on all night, and
the Pilgrim snorted when he saw it. But Billy only waited till the
Pilgrim had put his saddle on the gentlest mount they had, then took
the reins from him and led both horses to the door.