"How," repeated his companion.

"I'm laying you a bet," said Conniston, quietly, coming toward them
from the table.

Jimmie put down his glass, stared reminiscently at it for a moment,
and then, lifting his eyebrows, turned to Conniston. "Evenin',
stranger. You might have made a remark?"

"If your luck has been working for other people for six months it's my
bet that it's on the way home to you right now! I don't mean any
offense, and I am not sure of your customs out here. But I'll stake
you to five dollars and take half what you win."

Jimmie grinned and put out his hand. "Which I call darn good custom,
East _or_ West!"

For a few minutes it looked as though Conniston's money were going to
retrieve the cowboy's losses. Jimmie had already twenty dollars in
front of him. And then a gambler's "hunch," a staking of everything on
one play, and Jimmie sat back with nothing to do but roll a cigarette.

"I might have giv' back your fiver a minute ago, but now--"

He ended by licking his brown cigarette-paper together. But his credit
was good with the bartender, and Conniston and Bart joined him in
having a drink.

"It looks like my luck had started back toward the home corrals all