When I noticed that these gamblers, outlaws by public opinion, held away from me, I became indignant. Addressing myself to Morris, I asked:
“Can you tell me, sir, for you seem to be an educated man, what I have said or done to make you all shun me?”
“I guess so,” he answered indifferently. “You took a hand in a game where you weren't wanted. And you tried to come in without ever having paid the ante, which is not allowed in any game—at least not in any game played about here.”
The allusion seemed plain; I was not only a stranger, but a foreigner; that must be my offence. With a “Good night, sir; good night, bar-keeper!” I left the room.
The next morning I went as usual to the office. I may have been seated there about an hour—it was almost eight o'clock—when I heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I said, swinging round in the American chair, to find myself face to face with Sheriff Johnson.
“Why, Sheriff, come in!” I exclaimed cheerfully, for I was relieved at seeing him, and so realized more clearly than ever that the unpleasantness of the previous evening had left in me a certain uneasiness. I was eager to show that the incident had no importance:
“Won't you take a seat? and you'll have a cigar?—these are not bad.”
“No, thank you,” he answered. “No, I guess I won't sit nor smoke jest now.” After a pause, he added, “I see you're studyin'; p'r'aps you're busy to-day; I won't disturb you.”