"Wretches being plucked of their good six months' pay," whispered Fraser.
"Looks like they're in for all night," Lounsbury returned.
But the officer was pinching him. "Sh! See there!"
A half-drunken trooper was interrupting the game. He had reeled forward to the table, and seemed to be addressing himself to Matthews, who, as he answered, glanced up indifferently. The trooper continued, emphasising his words by raising a clenched fist and striking the board a blow.
The chip-piles toppled. He turned to those about, gesticulating. A few surrounded him, evidently bent on leading him toward the door. Others appeared to be continuing the dispute with Matthews. But as the disturber was pushed out, they gradually subsided.
"I've got an idea," announced the storekeeper. And he disappeared around a corner.
When he returned he was leading the trooper and talking low to him. All three retired to the shadow of the wall.
Here there was a colloquy. First, Lounsbury held forth; next, the trooper, protestingly. When the lieutenant broke in, two phrases were frequently repeated—"to the guard-house," and "won't if you will."
At last the three went back to the window.
"Remember," cautioned the storekeeper, "we don't want all these shebangs stirred up."