"Yes, and a hot old game!" came from the youth on the trunk. "My! my! but they are whooping her up! They've got plenty to drink, and they are playing for big dust."
"Tell them to saw up till to-morrow," mumbled Bruce.
Jack did not do so, however. He remained on the trunk, watching the game, seeming greatly interested.
A big game of poker interested him any time. It was through the influence of Frank that he had been led to renounce the game, but the thirst for its excitements and delights remained with him, for he had come from a family of card-players and sportsmen.
"Come, come!" laughed Frank, after a while; "I can hear your teeth chattering, old man. Get off that trunk and turn in."
"Wait!" fluttered Jack—"wait till I see this hand played out."
In less than half a minute he cried:
"It's a skin game! I knew it was!"
"What's the lay?" asked Merry.
"That infernal Frenchman is a card-sharp!"