“Neale, I’ll bring you luck,” she said, and put her hand on his shoulder.

Neale’s luck did change.  Fortune faced about abruptly, with its fickle inconsistency, and Neale had a run of cards that piled the gold and bills before him and brought a crowd ten deep around the table.  When the game broke up Neale had won three thousand dollars.

“See!  I brought you luck,” whispered Beauty Stanton in his ear.  And across the table Ruby smiled hauntingly and mockingly.

Neale waved the crowd toward the bar.  Only the women and Larry refused the invitation.  Ruby gravitated irresistibly toward the cowboy.

“Aren’t you connected with the road?” inquired one of the visitors, drinking next to Neale.

“Yes,” replied Neale.

“Saw you in Omaha at the office of the company.  My name’s Blair.  I sell supplies to Commissioner Lee.  He has growing interests along the road.”

Neale’s lips closed and he set down his empty glass.  Excusing himself, he went back to the group he had left.  Larry sat on the edge of the table; Ruby stood close to him and she was talking; Stanton and the other woman had taken chairs.

“Wal, I reckon you made a rake-off,” drawled Larry, as Neale came up.  “Lend me some money, pard.”

Neale glanced at Larry and from him to the girl.  She dropped her eyes.

“Ruby, do you like Larry?” he queried.

“Sure do,” replied the girl.

“Reddy, do you like Ruby?” went on Neale.

Beauty Stanton smiled her interest.  The other woman came back from nowhere to watch Neale.  Larry regarded his friend in mild surprise.

“I reckon it was a turrible case of love at fust sight,” he drawled.

“I’ll call your bluff!” flashed Neale.  “I’ve just won three thousand dollars.  I’ll give it to you.  Will you take it and leave Benton—­go back—­no! go west—­begin life over again?”

“Together, you mean!” exclaimed Beauty Stanton, as she rose with a glow on her faded face.  No need to wonder why she had been named Beauty.

“Yes, together,” replied Neale, in swift steadiness.  “You’ve started bad.  But you’re young.  It’s never too late.  With this money you can buy a ranch—­begin all over again.”

“Pard, haven’t you seen too much red liquor?” drawled Larry.

The girl shook her head.  “Too late!” she said, softly.

“Why?”

“Larry is bad, but he’s honest.  I’m both bad and dishonest.”

“Ruby, I wouldn’t call you dishonest,” returned Neale, bluntly. 
“Bad—­yes.  And wild!  But if you had a chance?”

“No,” she said.

“You’re both slated for hell.  What’s the sense of it?”

“I don’t see that you’re slated for heaven,” retorted Ruby.

“Wal, I shore say echo,” drawled Larry, as he rolled a cigarette. 
“Pard, you’re drunk this heah minnit.”

“I’m not drunk.  I appeal to you, Miss Stanton,” protested Neale.