"Good Heavens! Then it's YOUR money he's winning."

"Sure, at the rate of a thousand a minute."

She glanced at the long trail of devastated tables behind
Glenister and his followers. At that instant the sound told that
the miner had won again, and it dawned upon Cherry that the
gambler beside her stood too quietly, that his hand and voice were
too steady, his glance too cold to be natural. The next moment
approved her instinct.

The musicians, grown tired of their endeavors to lure back the
dancers, determined to join the excitement, and ceased playing.
The leader laid down his violin, the pianist trailed up the key-
board with a departing twitter and quit his stool. They all
crossed the hall, headed for the crowd, some of them making ready
to bet. As they approached the Bronco Kid, his lips thinned and
slid apart slightly, while out of his heavy-lidded eyes there
flared unreasoning rage. Stepping forward, he seized the foremost
man and spun him about violently.

"Where are you going?"

"Why, nobody wants to dance, so we thought we'd go out front for a
bit."

"Get back, damn you!" It was his first chance to vent the passion
within him. A glance at his maddened features was sufficient for
the musicians, and they did not delay. By the time they had