"Why, Jacky, what means this early rising?" said the old man kindly.
"Too tired last night to sleep?"

"No, uncle. Guess I slept all right. The wind's dropping fast. I take it
it'll be blowing great guns again before long. This is our chance to
make the ranch." She had been an observer of the finish of the game. She
had heard Bill's remarks on his loss, and yet not by a single word did
she betray her knowledge. Inwardly she railed at herself for having gone
to bed. She wondered how it had fared with her uncle.

Bunning-Ford left the room. Somehow he felt that he must get away from
the steady gaze of those gray eyes. He knew how Jacky dreaded, for her
uncle's sake, the game they had just been playing. He wondered, as he
went to test the weather, what she would have thought had she known the
stakes, or the extent of her uncle's losses. He hoped she was not aware
of these facts.

"You look tired, Uncle John," said the girl, solicitously, as she came
down the stairs. She purposely ignored Lablache. "Have you had no
sleep?"

"Poker" John laughed a little uneasily.

"Sleep, child? We old birds of the prairie can do with very little of
that. It's only pretty faces that want sleep, and I'm thinking you ought
still to be in your bed."

"Miss Jacky is ever on the alert to take advantage of the elements," put
in Lablache, heavily. "She seems to understand these things better than