CHAPTER ONE
Hearts and Crosses
BALDY WOODS reached for the bottle, and got it. Whenever Baldy went for anything he usually—but this is not Baldy’s story. He poured out a third drink that was larger by a finger than the first and second. Baldy was in consultation; and the consultee is worthy of his hire.
“I’d be king if I was you,” said Baldy, so positively that his holster creaked and his spurs rattled.
Webb Yeager pushed back his flat-brimmed Stetson, and made further disorder in his straw-coloured hair. The tonsorial recourse being without avail, he followed the liquid example of the more resourceful Baldy.
“If a man marries a queen, it oughtn’t to make him a two-spot,” declared Webb, epitomising his grievances.
“Sure not,” said Baldy, sympathetic, still thirsty, and genuinely solicitous concerning the relative value of the cards. “By rights you’re a king. If I was you, I’d call for a new deal. The cards have been
