"'Chump' is right, mebby.

But anyways, you're too late, Mr.Nolan.

I'm cleaned." Mack Nolan rolled another cigarette, lighted it and flipped the match into the campfire.

He smoked it down to the last inch, staring into the fire and saying nothing the while.

When the cigarette stub followed the match, he leaned back upon one elbow and began tracing a geometrical figure in the sand with a stick.
"Ryan," he said abruptly, "you're square and I know it.