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Updated: May 25, 2025
Shanklin was gone, and another was in his place with an army-game board, or chuck-a-luck, doing well with the minnows in the receding sea. Wondering what had become of Shanklin, he turned to go down a dark little street which was a quick cut to the back entrance of the big gambling-tent, where he expected to find Walker and go into the matter of sheep.
"They don't only have to show you fellers from Missouri," pursued Walker; "but you show them! That's the old man's way, from the boot-heels up." They were walking away from the gambling-tent, taking the middle of the road, as was the custom in Comanche after dark, sinking instep deep in dust at every step. "What are you doing with all that money in a place like this?" the doctor questioned.
"This time yesterday I was kicking over the rubbish where a gambling-tent had stood in Comanche, in the hope of finding a dime." He stopped, looked away down the soft-tinted gorge as if wrapped in reminiscent thought. She caught her breath quickly, turning to him with a little start and gazing at his set face, upon which a new, strange somberness had fallen in those unaccounted days.
I had it planned out ten years ahead in that twenty minutes. When a man never has had anything to speculate in but dreams he's terribly extravagant of them, you know. I was recklessly so. "Well, I was going along with my head in the clouds, and I made a short cut to go in the back way of the biggest gambling-tent, where I thought Walker might be watching the games.
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