We located a big poker game in a soft spot and decided to line up the players. The biggest gamblers in town sat there nightly and there were thousands of dollars in sight. After many nights of careful checking, we were ready to go against it.

Robbery has none of the complications of burglary. It is simple as one, two, three. You get it or you don’t.

Sanc with a gun in his hand opened the door softly. I was behind him. The players, six of them, were in the midst of a big play. None looked up. At the opposite side of the table, facing us, scrutinizing his cards, sat Bat Masterson, the last of the real bad men, the fastest man alive with a gun, and with a record of twenty killings while marshal of Dodge City, Kansas.

Sanc closed the door on the absorbed poker players as softly as he had opened it, and “officed” me to follow him out. “What’s wrong?” I asked.