Daughter of the Sun | Page 3

of an hour they sat and found much to
talk of. He had his own experiences to recount and sketched them
swiftly, telling of a venture in a new silver mining country and a certain
profit made; of a "misunderstanding," as he mirthfully explained it,
now and then, with the children of the South; of horse swapping and a
taste of the pearl fisheries of La Paz; of no end of adventures such as
men of his class and nationality find every day in troublous Mexico.
Twisty Barlow, an old-time friend with whom once he had gone
adventuring in Peru, a man who had been deep sea sailor and near
pirate, real estate juggler, miner, trapper and mule skinner, sat at his
elbow, put many an incisive question, had many a yarn of his own to
spin.
"Headlong, old mate," said Twisty Barlow once, laying his knotty hand
on Kendric's arm, "by the livin' Gawd that made us, I'd like to go
a-journeyin' with the likes of you again. And I know the land that's
waitin' for the pair of us. Into San Diego we go and there we take a
certain warped and battered old stem-twister the owner calls a schooner.
And we beat it out into the Pacific and turn south until we come to a
certain land maybe you can remember having heard me tell about. And
there---- It's there, Headlong, old mate!"
Kendric's eyes shone while Barlow spoke, but then they always shone
when a man hinted of such things as he knew lay in the sailorman's
mind. But at the end he shook his head.
"You're talking about tomorrow or next day, Twisty," he laughed,
filling his deep lungs contentedly. "I've had a bellyful of mañana-talk
here of late. All I'm interested in is tonight." He rattled some loose
coins in his pocket. "I've got money in my pocket, man!" he cried,
jumping to his feet. "Come ahead. I stake every man jack of you to ten
dollars and any man who wins treats the house."

Meanwhile Ortega's place had been doing an increasing business. Now
there was desultory playing at several tables where men were placing
their bets at poker, at seven-and-a-half and at roulette; the faro layout
would be offering its invitation in a moment; there was a game of dice
in progress.
Kendric's companions moved about from table to table laughing,
making small bets or merely watching. But presently as half dollars
were won and lost the insidious charm of hazard touched them. Monte
stuck fast to the faro table for fifteen minutes, at the end of which time
he rose with a sigh, tempted to go back to Kendric for a "real stake"
and cut in for a man's play. But he thought better of it and strolled away,
rolling a cigarette and watching the others. Jerry bought a ten dollar
stack of chips and assayed his fortune with roulette, playing his usual
luck and his usual system; with every hazard lost he lost his temper and
doubled his bet. He was the first man to join Monte.
For upward of an hour of play Kendric was content with looking on
and had not hazarded a cent beyond the money flung down on the table
to be played by his friends. But now at last he looked about the room
eagerly, his head up, his eyes blazing with the up-surge of the spirit
riding him. About his middle was a money belt, safely brought back
across the border; in his wild heart was the imperative desire to play.
Play high and quick and hard. It was then that for the first time he noted
Ruiz Rios. Evidently the Mexican had just now entered from the rear.
At the far end of the room where the kerosene lamp light was none too
good Rios was standing with a solitary slim-bodied companion. The
companion, to call for all due consideration later, barely caught Jim's
roving eye now; he saw Rios and he told himself that the gamblers'
goddess had whisked him in at the magic moment. For in one essential,
as in no others, was Ruiz Rios a man after Jim Kendric's own heart: the
Mexican was a man to play for any stake and do no moralizing over the
result.
"Ortega," cried Kendric, looking all the time challengingly at Rios,
"there is only one game worth the playing. King of games? The
emperor of games! Have you a man here to shake dice with me?"

Ortega understood and made no answer, Rios, small and sinister and
handsome, his air one of eternal well-bred insolence, kept his own
counsel. There came a quick tug at his sleeve; his companion
whispered in his ear. Thus it was that for the first time Kendric really
looked at