He scampered back into the other room, only to return, hesitating,
his money tightly clutched.

"Do you s'pose it's safe? I never saw a man bet so reckless. I
guess I'd better quit, eh?" He noted the sneer on the woman's
face, and without waiting a reply dashed off again. They saw him
clamorously fight his way in towards a post at the roulette-table.
"Let me through! I've got money and I want to play it!"

"Pah!" said Mullins, disgustedly. "He's one of them Vermont
desperadoes that never laid a bet till he was thirty. If Glenister
loses he'll hate him for life."

"There are plenty of his sort here," the girl remarked; "his soul
would fit in a flea-track." She spied the Bronco Kid sauntering
back towards her and joined him. He leaned against the wall,
watching the gossamer thread of smoke twist upward from his
cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the surroundings, and showing no
hint of the emotion he had displayed two hours before.

"This is a big killing, isn't it?" said the girl. The gambler
nodded, murmuring indifferently.

"Why aren't you dealing bank? Isn't this your shift?"

"I quit last night."

"Just in time to miss this affair. Lucky for you."

"Yes; I own the place now. Bought it yesterday."