Seating himself, Gopher Gabe looked curiously round the room, at its rude and simple furnishing, and then at the man himself. He could not but note that the fellow who called himself Uncle Sam was a tall, handsome man, made remarkable in appearance by his blond mustache and the long, blond hair that fell down on his shoulders. The man’s eyes were keen and penetrating, almost belying the smiling face and genial manner.
A door opening into the small back room gave a glimpse of an assayer’s furnace and appliances.
“I’m judgin’ that your secret process for gettin’ gold out of just plain dirt is a good deal of a success,” said the saloon keeper, with a meaning smile.
“Well, yes; I’m doin’ tol’able in my line, thank you! Took out a snug sum this week.”
“And doubled it at my gaming tables.”
The stranger’s gurgling laugh overflowed. The compliment seemed to please him.
“I hobe that our friendt vill not t’ink it an insuldt if I say that he seems to know vare a blendy of aces are to be foundt most easily,” remarked White-eyed Moses.
Uncle Sam laughed again.
“That seems to be the general inference,” he admitted; “but I assure you, gentlemen, that I get my aces from where they ought to come—the regular pack. Shall I be blamed if the dealer throws them to me, when he would, perhaps, prefer to throw me something else? It is just gambler’s luck.”