“What matters it, Pachuca?” cried one. “It is only a little. Soon you will have more.”
“Oh, yes, much more!” smiled another. “The chief has promised you plenty when he shall get the girl safely away.”
“I much prefer money to promises,” solemnly retorted Pachuca. “It’s an honest game I play. Why should I win with you?”
“Now, it’s best that you have a care with your tongue,” rather hotly returned one of the winners. “Yesterday it was your luck to win; now it is mine.”
“Is it luck you call it?” sneered Pachuca. “Ha! ha!”
“Yes, luck. What was it when you won?”
“It was my skill,” declared Pachuca loftily. “But even skill is no match for some methods.”
At this the little fellow who had won the most sprang up and struck the table with his fist, glaring across at Pachuca.
“Do you dare say to my face that I cheat?” he sharply cried. “Speak it out, if you do!”
Merry was quite satisfied by the course events seemed to be taking, for he felt that it might be much to his advantage if a quarrel between these two men followed.