"Lost it," Nick answered, as if a range of a hundred fertile acres with its herd of horses were a trifling article that had dropped through an unsuspected hole in his pocket. "Lost it."
"Just so," nodded Kiddie. "Gambled it away, I guess; staked the whole property on the turn-up of a miserable queen of spades, and lost the lot."
"As a matter of fact," Nick smiled grimly, "it were th' ace of hearts as done me in. An' the skunk as won it offen me wasn't a white man, neither, but a greasy Injun. So now you know."
"Ah, Nick, you sure ain't the man you was in Buck's time; gamblin', drinkin', hidin' your guilty face behind a mask, afraid when a harmless visitor knocks at your door. What d'you suppose Buck would have thought of you? What d'you expect me myself to think?"
"Dunno," said Nick ashamedly. "Th' ain't many men along this yer trail like Buckskin Jack an' you, Kiddie. Thar's nobody ter lend a guidin' hand to a man that's anyways weak. If I'd had you or Buck ter blaze the trail for me I reckon I'd never have lost my way, same's I have done. Savvy?"
"You c'd git back to the right trail even yet if you'd only go straight," urged Kiddie.
Nick shrugged his broad shoulders.
"Say, what you got in the bag?" he inquired abruptly.
Kiddie had opened his haversack and taken from it a small canvas wallet, which he laid on the table in front of him. He also produced a very beautiful gold cigarette case.
"Have a smoke, Nick," he invited, opening the case and displaying a compact double row of very fine Turkish cigarettes with gold tips. "These are a special brand. I never smoke myself; just carry these ter give away. Take!"