"Won it!" he snapped. "He stole it, that's how much he won it. He 'll give it back or get shot."
"Now look here," she said, quickly. "You ain't goin' gunnin' for no friend of mine. If you want to get that money for me, an' I certainly can use it about now, you got to try some other way. Say! Why don't you win it from him?" she exulted. "That's th' way—get it back th' way it went."
He weighed her words and a grin slowly crept across his face. "Why, I reckon you called it, that time, Annie. That's th' way I 'll try first, anyhow, Li'l Girl. Where is this good friend of yourn that steals yore money? Where is this feller?"
As if in answer to his inquiry the heavy-set man strolled in, humming cheerily. And as he did so the sleepy occupant of the barber's chair slowly awoke, rubbed his eyes, stretched luxuriously and, paying his bill, loafed out and lazily sauntered down the street, swearing softly.
"Why, here he is now," laughed the woman. "You must 'a' heard us talkin' about you, Jim. I'm goin' to get my money back—this is Mr. Porter, Jim, who 's goin' to do it."
The gambler smiled and held out his hand. "Howd'y, Mr. Porter," he said.
Sammy glared at him: "Put yore paw down," he said, thickly. "I ain't shakin' han's with no dogs or tin-horns."
The gambler recoiled and flushed, fighting hard to repress his anger. "What you mean?" he growled, furiously.
"What I said. If you want revenge sit down there an' play, if you 've got th' nerve to play with a man. I never let no coyote steal a woman's money, an' I 'm goin' to get Annie her twenty. Savvy?"
The gambler's reply was a snarl. "Play!" he sneered. "I'll play, all right. It'll take more 'n a sassy kid to get that money back, too. I 'm goin' to take yore last red cent. You can't talk to me like that an' get it over. An' don't let me hear you call her 'Annie' no more, neither. Yo 're too cussed familiar!"