Lewis played feverishly. In an hour he had lost the three notes.

"Never mind," said the stranger; "I'll give you another chance." He
pushed one of the notes toward Lewis. "That for your bundle in the red
handkerchief. You may win the whole lot back in one hand."

Lewis played and lost. Despair seized upon him now with no uncertain
hand. His money, his pony, even his little bundle gone! This was
calamity. He suffered as only the young can suffer. His world had
suddenly become a blank. Through bloodshot eyes he looked upon the
stranger and tried to hate him, but could not.

"Come," said the stranger, rising and lighting a lantern. "I'm going to
make you a foolish offer of big odds against me. I'll wager all I've won
from you against one year's service that you can't beat the game in one
hand. Eleven cards out of the fifty-two beats the game."

What was a year's service? thought Lewis. He had been willing to give
that for nothing. He played and lost. Suddenly shame was added to his
despair. To give service is noble, but to have it bought from you, won
from you! Lewis fought back his tears desperately. What a fool, what a
fool this man, this stranger, had made of him!

The stranger took out his watch and looked at it.

"In seven hours and seven minutes," he remarked, "I have given you one
of my seven lives that it took almost seven years to live. Seven, by the
way, is one of the mystic numbers."