“Consecutive,” said the digger. “It avoids a shindy, and is more straightfor’ard.”
A pool of £20 was thus made up, and the play continued.
The innocent youth who answered to the name of William stood behind Tresco’s chair and winked at Garstang, whose loosely-made mouth twitched with merriment.
“Don’t be rash, Dolly,” remarked Young William to the man with the hideous neck, who held the dice box. “Think of your wife an’ kids in Sydney before you make yer throw. You’re spoilin’ my morals.”
“Go outside, and grow virtuous in the passage.” Dolphin made his throws, which totalled twenty-six.
Tresco followed with eighteen. The digger’s and Carnac’s chances still remained.
So lucky on the diggings, so unlucky in town, Bill the Prospector took the box with a slightly trembling hand and rattled the dice. His first throw was twelve, his second eleven. “Even money I beat you,” he said to Dolphin.
“Garn,” replied that polite worthy. “What yer givin’ us? D’you take me for a flat?”
The digger threw, and his score totalled thirty.
“P’r’aps, mister,” he said, turning to Carnac, “you’d like to take me up. Quid to quid you don’t beat me.”