In this state he was as harmless as a tame bear when filled with meat and honey. But when he softly whistled a dirge, even his most trusted companions feared him. He was then a tiger. If he laughed pleasantly he was in high spirits and his companions felt easy and secure. But that was seldom.
He regarded his men quietly, then looked toward an object, prostrate, a few yards away, and smiled quietly. Then he became demure, then said with a pleasant laugh:
“Well, boys, who is winner? Is anybody bankrupt?”
“Spades trumps!” vociferated a wiry fellow who had been regarding his captain anxiously. He had slightly offended him the day before. His face grew joyful, and as he swept his winnings between his knees, he cried:
“Hurrah fur Cap’n Downing, boys! three and a tiger!”
The cheers were given lustily. Downing bowed with a look of gratification.
“Thank you, boys,” he said.
Then he turned to Cato.
“There is your job. Bury that villain!”
He turned, and followed by Fink, walked to his cabin, entered it, and closed the door. The men were hilarious.