Back in the Old West, a number of men were upstairs in a boarding house amusing themselves with a game of cards when they heard a cry from the street below: “Fire! Fire!” The men looked at one another in disbelief. One of the windows grew orange with the flames. “Wait!” said the dealer. “Let’s just finish this hand; we’ve got plenty of time—I have a key to the back door.” The men nodded in approval, then quickly picked up the dealt cards. Precious minutes passed. One of the men became nervous as the flames licked through the now broken window. With darting eyes and a sweat-filled brow, he asked for the key. “Coward!” muttered the dealer as he tossed across the key. Each of them then rushed to the door and waited with bated breath as the key was placed into the lock. “It won’t turn!” the man cried. “Let me have it!” said the dealer. As he tried in vain to turn the key, he whispered in horror, “It’s the wrong key!”

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