"Jerry, you named your game and made your play and lost. I guess you
ain't going to turn up a hard loser. Nobody plays twice for the same
pot."

The hazel eye of Strann was grey with anguish of the spirit as he looked
from O'Brien to the crowd and from the crowd to Satan, and from Satan to
his meek-eyed owner. Nowhere was there a defiant eye or a glint of scorn
on which he could wreak his wrath. He stood poised in his anger for the
space of a breath; then, in the sharp struggle, his better nature
conquered.

"Come on in, all of you," he called. "We'll liquor, and forget this."




CHAPTER IX

BATTLE LIGHT


O'Brien pressed close to Barry.

"Partner," he said rapidly, "you're clear now--you're clear of more hell
that you ever dream. Now climb that hoss of yours and feed him leather
till you get clear of Brownsville--and if I was you I'd never come
within a day's ride of the Three B's again."

The mild, brown eyes widened.