"Lost it," answered the gambler. "Fellow named Hi Wilson got it from me."
"I reckon that's right," said another. "He played with Hi night before last and Hi went off with over three hundred dollars. He was too sharp-eyed for this rascal."
"I'll fix this," said Maybe Dixon. "He owes us one thousand. Nine hundred is a thousand with ten per cent. off, as the schoolmasters say. Everybody gits wot is comin' to him less ten per cent. Ain't I right, Perfesser?" The last to a man who had once taught in Yale College, and who was now as eager to hunt gold as anybody.
"That is correct," answered the professor, with a nod of his bald head.
"Make the Perfesser the bookkeeper," said another man, and this was done, and in a very few minutes the money was divided in the proper ratio. During the proceedings the gambler looked glum. He gave Mark a savage glance.
"I'll remember you, sonny!" he hissed, in a low tone.
"I'll remember you too," answered Mark, but the gambler's remark caused him to shiver. He knew that Sag Ruff was angry enough to kill him if given the opportunity.
It was after midnight, yet the camp was alive with people. The news had spread that somebody had exposed a swindler, and a crowd began to collect. Sag Ruff wanted to run away, but Maybe Dixon and some of the others would not let him go.
"We are not done with you," said one man.
"Why not? I've given up all I've got," growled the swindler.