Someone was singing a rollicking song of the range at one end of the
bar, and a chorus of four bellowed a profane parody at the other end.

The ears of Pierre le Rouge tingled hotly, and partly to escape the
uproar he worked his way to the quieter room at the back of
the saloon.

It was almost as crowded as the bar, but here no one spoke except for
an occasional growl. Sudden speaking, and a loud voice, indeed, was
hardly safe. Someone cursed at his ill-luck as Pierre entered, and a
dozen hands reached for six-guns. In such a place one had to
be prepared.

Pierre remembered with quick dismay that he was not armed. All his
life the straight black gown had been weapon enough to make all men
give way before him. Now he carried no borrowed strength upon his
shoulders.

Automatically he slipped his fingers under the breast of his shirt
until their tips touched the cold metal of the cross. That gave him
stronger courage. The joy of the adventure made his blood warm again
as he drew out his one coin and looked for a place to start
his venture.

So he approached the nearest table. On the surface of it were marked
six squares with chalk, and each with its appropriate number. The man
who ran the game stood behind the table and shook three dice. The
numbers which turned up paid the gambler. The numbers which failed to
show paid the owner of the game.