"Ah! You got turned out for beaning Minter?"

Terry remained silent.

"Without a cent?"

Suddenly the pudgy arm of Denver shot out and his finger pointed into
Terry's face.

"You damn fool! This fifty is the last cent you got in the world!"

"Not at all," said Terry calmly.

"You lie!" Denver struck his knuckles across his forehead. "And I was
going to trim you. Black Jack, I didn't know you was as white as this.
Fifty? Pal, take it back!"

He forced the money into Terry's pocket.

"And take some more. Here; lemme stake you. I been pulling a sob story,
but I'm in the clover, Black Jack. Gimme your last cent, will you? Kid,
here's a hundred, two hundred--say what you want."

"Not a cent--nothing," said Terry, but he was deeply moved.

Denver thoughtfully restored the money to his wallet.

"You're white," he said gently. "And you're straight as they come. Keep
it up if you can. I know damned well that you can't. I've seen 'em try
before. But they always slip. Keep it up, Black Jack, but if you ever