S. had been south, and was returning by train over the Union Pacific out of Denver to the north.

At that time gambling for mild stakes was but a frivolous pastime and was permitted on the trains running through the western country. Robb and a number of others were passing away the time with a little game of "twenty-five cent limit," and were having considerable amusement.

Some one called Robb's attention to a herd of cattle that was passing, and when he turned his attention again to the game, he picked up

HISTORY OF WESTERN NEBRASKA

a hand with four kings. He said: "If the limit was off, 1 would bet five dollars on this hand."

One of the players, a tall spare fellow with sharp, black eyes, looked his hand over, and answered: "If you did, I would raise you ten." They got to bandying words about the merits of their respective hands, and finally made a bet of fifteen dollars. The other fellow had four aces.

Robb got to mulling the incident over in his mind, and decided that when his attention was directed outside the car window, there had been some juggling of the cards.

"My friend," he said, and there was that tense thrill and the quiet that always followed certain tones of expression in the west, "My friend, I guess I will have to trouble you to hand me back that money. I am too old a stager for that kind of work," and his sixshooter was there ready to help argue the matter.