the Rutherford clan than this. Moreover, just now he was so far ahead
that he had cleared the table of all the stakes. Meldrum knew this.
So did Hal Rutherford, the big man sitting next the wall. What would
be their next move? Perhaps if he joined them he would find out. This
course held its dangers, but long experience had taught him that to
walk through besetting perils was less risk than to run from them.

"If that's an invitation, Dan, you're on," he answered gayly. "Just a
minute, and I'll join you. I want to send a message to Sweeney."

Without even looking at Meldrum to see the effect of this, Dave
beckoned a Mexican standing near. "Tell the sheriff I want to see him
here _pronto_. You win a dollar if he is back within an hour."

The Mexican disappeared. Fox followed him.

The cattleman drew in his chair and was introduced to the two
strangers. The quick, searching look he gave each confirmed his first
impression. These men were professional gamblers. It occurred to him
that they had made a singularly poor choice of victims in Dan Meldrum
and Hal Rutherford. Either of them would reach for his gun at the
first evidence of crooked play.

No man in Battle Butte was a better poker psychologist than Dingwell,
but to-night cards did not interest him. He was playing a bigger game.
His subconscious mind was alert for developments. Since only his
surface attention was given to poker he played close.

While Rutherford dealt the cards he talked at Dave. "So you're
expecting Sweeney, are you? Been having trouble with any one?"