IT WAS the biggest two-handed poker game ever played in Blue Wells, and when “Antelope Jim” Neal, owner of the Blue Wells Oasis Saloon, raked in the last pot, “Tex” Alden rubbed the back of his hand across his dry lips and shut his weary eyes. He had lost eight thousand dollars.
“Is that all, Tex?” asked Neal, and his voice held a hope that the big cowboy would answer in the affirmative. The game had never ceased for thirty-six hours.
“As far as I’m concerned,” said Tex slowly. “I don’t owe yuh anythin’, do I?”
“Not a cent, Tex. Have a drink?”
“Yeah—whiskey.”
Tex got to his feet, stretching himself wearily. He was well over six feet tall, habitually gloomy of countenance. His hair was black, as were his jowls, even after a close shave. There were dark circles around his brown eyes, an
