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next shooter, a white man, picked up the dice, it seemed as if some intolerable gap had been bridged. Abner's nerves settled in their cycle of suspense, dénouement, pleasure, pain. He made his hazard concerning the future, even if that future were separated from the present by the merest tick of time. Still he was using his powers of forecasting a functioning his daily life did not hold. The boy played on and on.

The stars of the summer night wove slowly overhead as these devotees of the dark Goddess of Chance knelt at their devotions. Once in the syncope of his gaming Abner saw Tug Beavers come up to the firelight out of the darkness and join the gamblers. Near Tug sat Peck Bradley. The throw of the dice moved around the circle from man to man. Presently the cubes were in Tug's hands. Beavers was shooting when a voice snapped out:

"Lemme see them dice!"

Tug began, "What the hell . . ." when Bradley cut in, "It's that nigger's pair o' crooks!"

Tug cried out, "Damn it, look at 'em!" and threw them down.

"You've switched! What's up yore sleeve?"

Abner saw Peck jerk at Tug's sleeve and rip it open.

For a moment Tug seemed on the verge of smashing the face of his accuser, but Peck's hard animal face, his hog-bristle hair, and the fact that he was then on trial for murder must have halted Tug, for he said with a dry swallow:

"There, damn ye, I reckon you see I ain't got no dice 'cept them what was handed me!"

Bradley grumbled dissatisfaction but loosed Tug, and the next man took up the play. But the quarrel between the white men had broken up the spirit of the game. Three of four men arose and took themselves off through the darkness. Abner played for perhaps another half hour, when the last of the gamblers deserted the game and the youth was forced to quit. He took up his money, uncounted, and put it in his pocket. His bent knees were so stiff that he toppled over