"How?"
"First, you got to keep him here."
"How?"
Joe Pollard sat back with the air of one who will be convinced through no mental effort of his own. But Denver was equal to the demand.
"I'm going to show you. He thinks he owes you three hundred."
"That's foolish. I cheated the kid out of it. I'll give it back to him and all the rest I won."
Denver paused and studied the other as one amazed by such stupidity.
"Pal, did you ever try, in the old days, to give anything to the old
Black Jack?"
"H'm. Well, he sure hated charity. But this ain't charity."
"It ain't in your eyes. It is in Terry's. If you insist, he'll get sore. No, Joe. Let him think he owes you that money. Let him start in working it off for you—honest work. You ain't got any ranch work. Well, set him to cutting down trees, or anything. That'll help to hold him. If he makes some gambling play—and he's got the born gambler in him—you got one last thing that'll be apt to keep him here."