We found one, and played one game. I do not remember who won it. What happened shortly after was calculated to rub out trifles from one’s memory.
“Now,” said I, when we had finished the game, “we had better go. Something tells me we will not have time to play another.”
“O, pshaw!” replied my companion. “Didn’t the captain tell us the boat would lie here several hours?”
“True, but I cannot help feeling uneasy.”
“O, nonsense! let’s play another.”
We commenced another game, and had each made fifteen or twenty points, when another fit of uneasiness seized me.
“Come,” said I, “something tells me the boat is ready to leave; I’ll give you this game. Let us go.”
“O, there’s no danger of the boat’s going,” he replied. “It will whistle first, anyhow.”
We played about seven minutes longer, when a boy came in.
“Bub,” said I, “is the St. Louis lying at the landing yet?”