"Some," Tom admitted with a grimace. "We ran up against one of
that brood in Arizona, eh, Harry?"
"You didn't play against him, I hope, hinted Jim soberly.
"Yes, we did," admitted Tom. "Not with his own marked cards,
though, nor with any kind of cards. We met him with men's weapons,
and it is necessary to add that our 'square gambler' lost."
"The 'square gamblers' that I met didn't lose," sighed Jim Ferrers.
"They won, and that's why all three of my mines passed out of my
hands before they began to pay."
"You must know something about ore and croppings, and the like,
Jim?", Tom continued.
"In a prospector's way, yes," Ferrers admitted.
"Then we'll take a walk, now. Alf can wash up the dishes."
"It's all the little wretch is fit for," muttered Ferrers
contemptuously.
Jim looked carefully into the magazine of his repeating ride, then
saw to it that his ammunition belt was filled.
"Ready when you gentlemen are," he announced.
"Say, won't you take me with you?" pleaded Alf.
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