"If our word's good enough, we'll take every wager," he shouted; and the audacity pleased the crowd.
The constable, the proprietor of the Rest, and Marmot, mounted guard over the stakes, placed for convenience in two empty gin cases—one for the solid gold of the miners, and the other for the gold, notes, and paper of the trio.
Then the game began, and the men crowded round the walls of the room, silent, stern, and scowling, as they saw Gleeson run away from their champion like a racehorse from a bullock-team. He went out the points he had boastingly offered ahead of the Birralong champion, and a gleam and a flash went round the room as the men realized what it meant—the combined wealth of the crowd belonged to the three.
"Double or quits," Gleeson cried, as he faced round on Tony.
"Done," he answered; and Gleeson glanced round the room.
"Are you on?" he asked.
A growl of assent was the answer, and the second game began.
Tony, unsteadied in the first game by the day's travelling, set his teeth hard, and nerved himself to avoid a repetition of the defeat. The bumps in the cushions favoured him, and he held his own from the start, and came in just ahead of his opponent amidst howls of approval from the diggers.
As the noise lulled before the growing desire to toast success, long life, and various other pleasant prospects to the winner of the second game, an artistic piece of by-play was introduced by a violent altercation between Walker, Tap, and Gleeson, the first two savagely attacking the latter for having thrown away their money by playing double or quits. Walker repudiated the matter, and claimed that as he had not agreed to the stake on the second game, he was entitled to payment for the wagers he had made on the first.
Palmer Billy advanced to the table.