“I am a man of humours, my dear friend,” he said, “and to-night my humour is to talk and to be merry. What is it the philosophers tell us?—that the sweetest joys of life are the joys of anticipation. Here we are, then, on the eve of our triumph—let us talk, plan, be happy. Bah! how thirsty it makes one! Come, Trent, what stake will you have me set up against that other tumblerful of brandy.”
“No stake that you can offer,” Trent answered shortly. “That drop of brandy may stand between us and death. Pluck up your courage, man, and forget for a bit that there is such a thing as drink.”
Monty frowned and looked stealthily across towards the bottle.
“That's all very well, my friend,” he said, “but kindly remember that you are young, and well, and strong. I am old, and an invalid. I need support. Don't be hard on me, Trent. Say fifty again.
“No, nor fifty hundred,” Trent answered shortly. “I don't want your money. Don't be such a fool, or you'll never live to enjoy it.”
Monty shuffled on to his feet, and walked aimlessly about the hut. Once or twice as he passed the place where the bottle rested, he hesitated; at last he paused, his eyes lit up, he stretched out his hand stealthily. But before he could possess himself of it Trent's hand was upon his collar.
“You poor fool!” he said; “leave it alone can't you? You want to poison yourself I know. Well, you can do as you jolly well like when you are out of this—not before.”
Monty's eyes flashed evil fires, but his tone remained persuasive. “Trent,” he said, “be reasonable. Look at me! I ask you now whether I am not better for that last drop. I tell you that it is food and wine to me. I need it to brace me up for to-morrow. Now listen! Name your own stake! Set it up against that single glass! I am not a mean man, Trent. Shall we say one hundred and fifty?”
Trent looked at him half scornfully, half deprecatingly.
“You are only wasting your breath, Monty,” he said. “I couldn't touch money won in such a way, and I want to get you out of this alive. There's fever in the air all around us, and if either of us got a touch of it that drop of brandy might stand between us and death. Don't worry me like a spoilt child. Roll yourself up and get to sleep! I'll keep watch.”