Meantime at Martin's it was growing lively. The bar was crowded, the restaurant was being liberally patronized, and persons went up the stairs that did not return. Jordan paid the check, and he and Osborne went out.
"When'll they go out, Ben?"
"Monday."
"Too bad. I wish I'd been sober."
"I'll break Morrissy's head one of these fine days. Let's go over to Johnny's; there's music over there."
"All right, Ben."
"And no more booze, mind."
"Just as you say."
Up stairs the gambling-den was doing a good business. The annual trotting meet had brought many sporting men to town. They were standing around the faro table; the two roulette wheels were going, and the Klondike machine spun ceaselessly. There were a dozen stacks of chips in front of Bolles. He was smiling, flushed with triumph and whisky.
"Three hundred to the good, old boy!" he said to the man who spun the ivory ball. "I'll break you fellows to-night."