CHAPTER X
CUSS WORDS
When they had washed up and put the plates in their rack, Jude commandeered Ratcliffe to help with the dinghy. Satan, having given his orders, had retired into himself and the business of patching an old sail. He was seated at the work under the awning, and he seemed scarcely to notice the others as they got the boat away.
“Satan’s got something up his sleeve,” said Jude as they pulled for the beach. “I reckon he’s laying low to get the better of Cark.”
“Well, if you ask me,” said Ratcliffe, “I think he has got the better of him in some way or another. I don’t know how, and I don’t want to. I’d sooner wait and see. It’s as interesting as a game of chess.”
“What’s that?”
“Chess—oh, it’s a game. I’ll show you some day. Don’t you ever play games, Jude?”
“You bet! Why, I won five dollars day before we put out buckin’ against the red at Chinese Charlie’s—y’know Havana? Well, it’s on the Calle sin Pedro. They play faro, but mostly r’lette.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that sort of games.”
“Which sort did you mean?” asked Jude, as the nose of the boat beached on the sand and they scrambled out. “Did you mean whisky drinkin’ and cuttin’ and carryin’ on?”