Hoden was bursting for relief now--to talk--to tell. Sympathy had made
him soft. I did not need to ask another question.

"It was two years ago--two years last March," he went on. "I was in a
big cattle deal with Sampson. We got the stock, an' my share, eighteen
hundred head, was rustled off. I owed Sampson. He pressed me. It come to
a lawsuit, an' I--was ruined."

It hurt me to look at Hoden. He was white, and tears rolled down his
cheeks.

I saw the bitterness, the defeat, the agony of the man. He had failed to
meet his obligation; nevertheless he had been swindled.

All that he suppressed, all that would have been passion had the man's
spirit not been broken, lay bare for me to see. I had now the secret of
his bitterness.

But the reason he did not openly accuse Sampson, the secret of his
reticence and fear--these I thought best to try to learn at some later
time, after I had consulted with Steele.

"Hard luck! Jim, it certainly was tough," I said. "But you're a good
loser. And the wheel turns!

"Now, Jim, here's what I come particular to see you for. I need your
advice. I've got a little money. Between you and me, as friends, I've
been adding some to that roll all the time. But before I lose it I want
to invest some. Buy some stock or buy an interest in some rancher's
herd.