Hopalong Cassidy Sees Red

mornin'.'

'I'm gettin' so I don't need much sleep, I reckon.' replied the bartender. 'Did yore folks use a poker deck to cut yore teeth on?'

Bill laughed heartily. 'My luck turned, an' Fisher happened to be th' one that got in th' way.'

'He says you play a lot like a feller he used to know.'

'That so? Who was he?'

'Tex Ewalt.'

'Well, I ought to, for me an' Tex played a lot together, some years back. Wonder what ever happened to Tex? He ain't been down this way lately, has he?'

'No. I never saw him. Fisher knew him. He says Tex was th' greatest poker player that ever lived.'

'I reckon he's right,' replied Bill. 'I'm plumb grateful to Tex. It ain't his fault that I don't play a better game. But I got an idea playin' like his has got to be born in a man.' He ate silently for a moment. 'Now that I'm spotted I reckon my poker playin' is over in here. Oh, well, I ain't complainin'. I can eat an' sleep here, an' find enough around town to keep me goin' for a little while, anyhow. Then I'll drift.'

'Unless, mebby, you play for th' house,' suggested the bartender. 'What kind of a game does that SV foreman play?'

'I never like to size a man up till I play with him,' answered Bill. 'I was sort of savin' him for myself, for he's got a fat roll. Now I reckon I'll have to let somebody else do th' brandin'.' He sighed and went on with his breakfast.

'Get him into a little game an' see how good he is,' suggested the other, arising. 'Goin' to leave you now.' He turned away and then stopped suddenly, facing around again. 'Huh! I near forgot. Th' boss wants to see you.'

'Who? Kane? What about?'

'He'll tell you that, I reckon.'

'All right. Tell him I'm in here.'

The other grinned. 'I said th' boss wants to see you.'

'Shore; I heard you.'

'People he wants to see go to him.'

'Oh, all right; why didn't you say so first off? Where is he?'

'Thorpe will show you th' way. Whatever th' boss says, don't you go on th' prod. If yore feelin's get hurt, don't relieve 'em till you get out of his sight.'

'I've played poker too long to act sudden,' grinned Bill, easily.

His breakfast over, he sauntered into the gambling-room and stopped in front of Kit Thorpe, whose welcoming grin was quite a change from his attitude of the day before. 'I've been told Kane wants to see me. Here I am.'

Thorpe opened the door, followed his companion through it and paused to close and bolt it, after which he kept close to the other's heels and gave terse, grunted directions. 'Straight ahead—to th' left—to th' right—straight ahead. Don't make no false moves after you open that door. Go ahead—push it open.'

Bill obeyed and found himself in an oblong room which ran up to the opaque glass of a skylight fifteen feet above the floor, and five feet below the second skylight on the roof, in both of which the small panes were set in heavy metal bars. The room was cool and well ventilated.

Before him, seated at the far side of a flat-topped, walnut desk of ancient vintage sat a tall, lean, white- haired man of indeterminate age, who leaned slightly forward and whose hands were not in sight.

'Sit down,' said Kane, in a voice of singular sweetness and penetrating timbre. For several minutes he looked at his visitor as a buyer might look at a horse, silent, thoughtful, his deeply-lined face devoid of any change in its austere expression.

'Why did you come here?' he suddenly snapped.

'To get out of th' storm,' answered Bill.

'Why else?'

Bill looked around, up at the graven Thorpe and back again at his inquisitor, and shrugged his shoulders, 'Mebby you can tell me,' he answered before he remembered to be less independent.

'I think I can. Anyone who plays poker as well as you do has a very good reason for visiting strange towns. What is your name?'

'Bill Long.'

'I know that. I asked, what is your name?'

Bill looked around again and then sat up stiffly. 'That ain't interestin' us.'

'Where are you from?'

Bill shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.

'You are not very talkative today. How did you get that Highbank horse?'

Bill acted a little surprised and anxious. 'I—I don't know,' he answered foolishly.

'Very well. When you make up your mind to answer my questions I have a proposition to offer you which you may find to be mutually advantageous. In the meanwhile, do not play poker in this house. That's all.'

Thorpe coughed and opened the door, and swiftly placed a hand on the shoulder of the visitor. 'Time to go,' he said.

Bill hesitated and then slowly turned and led the way, saying nothing until he was back in the gambling-hall and Thorpe again kept his faithful vigil over the checkered door.

'Cuss it,' snorted Bill, remembering that in the part he was playing he had determined to be loquacious. 'If I told him all he wanted to know I'd be puttin' a rope around my neck an' givin' him th' loose end! So he's got a proposition to make, has he? Th' devil with him an' his propositions. I don't have to play poker in his place—there's plenty of it bein' played outside this buildin', I reckon. For two-bits I'd 'a' busted his neck then an' there!'

'You'd 'a' been spattered all over th' room if you'd made a play,' replied Thorpe, a little contempt in his voice for such boasting words from a man who had acted far from them when in the presence of Kane. He had this stranger's measure. 'An' you mind what he said about playin' in here, or I'll make you climb up th' wall, you'll be that eager to get out. You think over what he said, an' drift along. I'm busy.'

Bill, his frown hiding inner smiles, slowly turned and walked defiantly away, his swagger increasing with the distance covered; and when he reached the street he was exhaling dignity, and chuckled with satisfaction—he had seen behind the partition and met Kane. He passed the bank, once more normal, except for the armed guards, and bumped into Fisher, who frowned at him and kept on going.

'Hey!' called Bill. 'I want to ask you somethin'.'

Fisher stopped and turned. 'Well?' he growled, truculently.

Bill went up close to him. 'Just saw Kane. He says he has got somethin' to offer me. What is it?'

'My job, I reckon!' snapped the gambler.

'Yore job?' exclaimed his companion. 'I don't want yore job. If I'd 'a' knowed that was it I'd 'a' told him so, flat. I'm playin' for myself. An' say: He orders me not to play no more poker in his place. Wouldn't that gall you?'

'Then I wouldn't do it,' said the gambler, taking his arm. 'Come in an' have a drink. What else did he say?'

Bill told him and wound up with a curse. 'An' that Thorpe said he'd make me climb up th' wall! Wonder who he thinks he is—Bill Hickok?'

Fisher laughed. 'Oh, he don't mean nothin'. He's a lookin'-glass. When Kane laughs, he laughs; when Kane has a sore toe, he's plumb crippled. But, just th' same I'm tellin' you Thorpe's a bad man with a gun. Don't rile him too much. Say, was you ever paired up with Ewalt?'

Bill put down his glass with deliberate slowness. 'Look here!' he growled. 'I'm plumb tired of answerin' personal questions. Not meanin' to hurt yore feelin's none, I'm sayin' it's my own cussed business what my name is, where I come from, who my aunt was, an' how old I was when I was born. I never saw such an' old-woman's town!'

Fisher laughed and slapped his shoulder.' Keep all four feet on th' ground, Long; but it is funny, now ain't it?'