across the street and who was Ortega's much despised son-in-law.  Long ago Ortega and Tony had quarreled and when Tony had run away with Eloisa, Ortega's pretty daughter, men said it was as much to spite the old man as for love of the girl's snapping eyes.  Tony might play, if Ortega refused."One throw for the whole thing, Ortega?" challenged Kendric.  "You and me."

"Have I twenty thousand _pesos_ in my pocket?" jeered Ortega.  "You make me the big gringo bluff."

"Bluff?  Call it then, man.  That's what a bluff is for.  And you don't need the money in the pocket.  This house is yours; your cellars are always full of expensive liquors; there is money in your till and something in your safe yet, I'll bet my hat.  Put up the whole thing against my wad and I'll shake you for it."

Plainly Ortega was tempted.  And why not?  There lay on the green table, winking up alluringly at him, twenty thousand dollars.  His, if simply a little cube with numbers on it turned in proper fashion. Twenty thousand dollars!  He licked his fat pendulous lips.  And, to further tempt him, he estimated that his entire holding here, bar fixtures, tables, wines and cash, were worth not above fifteen thousand.  But then, this was all that he had in the world and though he craved further gains until the craving was acute like a pain, still he clung avidly to the power and the prestige and the luxury that were his as owner of la Casa Grande.  In brief, he was too much the moral coward to be such a gambler as Kendric called for.

"No," he snapped angrily.

"Look," said Kendric, smiling.  He shook the die and threw it, inverting the cup over it so that it was hidden.  "I do not know what I have thrown, Ortega, and you do not know.  I will bet you five thousand dollars even money that it is a six or better."

Here were odds and Ortega jerked up his head.  Five thousand to bet----

"No," he said again.  "No.  I don't play.  You have devil's luck."

With a flourish Jim lifted the cup to see what he had thrown.  Again his utterly mirthful laughter boomed out.  It was the deuce, the low throw.  Ortega strained forward, saw and flushed.  Had he but been man enough to say "Yes!" to the odds offered him he would have been five thousand dollars richer this instant!  Five thousand dollars!  He ran a flabby hand across a moist brow.

"Where's the luck in that throw?" demanded 

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