mirror before Duff.

"Buzz-zz!" The fly in front of the gambler took wing and vanished
toward the rear of the store.

Some of the Arizona men looking on smiled knowingly. They had realized
from the start that young Farnsworth had stood no show of winning the
stupid wager.

"You win," stated young Clarence, in a tone that betrayed no annoyance.

Drawing a roll of bills from his pocket, he fumbled until he found a
twenty. This he passed to Duff, sitting in the next chair.

"You're not playing in luck to-day," smiled Duff gently, as he tucked
away the money in one of his coat pockets. "You're a good sportsman,
Farnsworth, at any rate."

"I flatter myself that I am," replied Clarence, blushing slightly.

Jim Duff continued calmly puffing at the cigar that rested between his
teeth. They were handsome teeth, though, in some way, they made one
think of the teeth of a vicious dog.

"Coming over to the hotel this afternoon?" continued Duff.

"I--I--" hesitated Clarence.

"Coming, did you say?" persisted Duff gently.