The glittering eyes fixed themselves on the digger. “You’re too generous, sir,” said the gentlemanly Carnac. “Your score is hard to beat. Of course, I mean to try, but the odds are in your favour.”
“I’ll make it two to one,” said the digger.
“Well, if you insist,” replied Carnac, “I’ll accommodate you.” He placed his pound upon the table, and made his first throw—ten.
“Shake ’er up, Carny,” cried Young William. “I back you. No deception, gentlemen; a game which is nothing but luck.”
The suave gambler’s next throw was eleven.
“An even pound you lose, mister,” said William to the digger.
“Done,” cried the Prospector. “Put out the money.”
Carnac threw twelve, said, “The little lady’s mine,” and took the pool.
The digger handed two pounds to the winner and a pound note to Young William who, crumpling his money in his palm, said, “Oysters for supper and a bottle of fizz—there’ll be no end of a spree.”
The monotonous round of the game continued, till Tresco’s borrowed money had dwindled to but five pounds, which was enough for but one more chance with the dice.