sport. It's good for young and old--a cheeild can understand it.
Three Eskimo igloos and an educated pill!"

"A shell-game!" Pierce Phillips halted in his tracks and stared
incredulously, then he smiled. "A shell-game, running wide open on
the main street of the town!" This WAS the frontier, the very edge
of things. With an odd sense of unreality he felt the world turn
back ten years. He had seen shell-games at circuses and
fairgrounds when he was much younger, but he supposed they had
long since been abandoned in favor of more ingenious and less
discreditable methods of robbery. Evidently, however, there were
some gulls left, for this device appeared to be well patronized.
Still doubting the evidence of his ears, he joined the group.

"The gentleman wins and the gambler loses!" droned the dealer as
he paid a bet. "Now then, we're off for another journey. Who'll
ride with me this time?"

Phillips was amazed that any one could be so simple-minded as to
squander his money upon such a notoriously unprofitable form of
entertainment. Nevertheless, men were playing, and they did not
seem to suspect that the persons whom the dealer occasionally paid
were his confederates.

The operator maintained an incessant monologue. At the moment of
Pierce's arrival he was directing it at an ox-eyed individual,
evidently selected to be the next victim. The fellow was stupid,
nevertheless he exercised some caution at first. He won a few
dollars, then he lost a few, but, alas! the gambling fever mounted
in him and greed finally overcame his hesitation. With an eager