Burroughs did not care for what he called "racketing." He was fond of reading, and preferred an evening with his books to social functions. He joined Errington in games of draughts, chess or dominoes; but these sedentary amusements had few attractions for the more active and restless member of the chummery, who could not find in reading, either, a substitute for his usual recreations. Occasionally they went out shooting together: the reed-beds of the river abounded in wild fowl; but the country was becoming more and more disturbed; the unrest which is always fermenting in out-of-the-way parts of China broke out in riots and other disorders; and one day they received a polite request from the viceroy of the province to keep within the precincts of the settlement. The viceroy had a nervous dread lest they should come to some harm, and their Government cause trouble, which would result possibly in his dismissal from office and the consequent loss of opportunities of enriching himself, or even, if the matter were very serious, in the loss of his buttons. As peaceable traders they had no option but to comply as gracefully as possible with this request: though if they had had no business interests to consider, they would have been prepared to take the risk of the attacks to which small parties of Europeans are frequently exposed in the remoter provinces, especially during periods of popular excitement.
The result of this enforced idleness on Errington was that he fell more readily than he might otherwise have done to the temptation of Reinhardt's card-parties, which became during the winter a nightly institution. Reinhardt was now seldom absent, and with one or two other Germans in the settlement he spent the long evenings over cards. Errington would sometimes rise from his seat in the little sitting-room he shared with Burroughs, pace the floor restlessly, then, with a glance at his companion engrossed in a book, slip out, more or less shamefacedly at first, but afterwards with scanter offers to justify himself, and make his way to Reinhardt's bungalow, where he was always assured of a warm welcome.
It was unfortunate that he should find himself possessed of an unusual aptitude for cards: still more unfortunate that for a time he had the luck that proverbially attends beginners. The card-players played for stakes, and as the season advanced, the amount of the stakes, as so frequently happens, advanced too. Errington never deliberately intended to play high, but he was almost insensibly led on by the example of the older men; and having begun, he lacked the firmness to withdraw, and shrank from appearing less of a sportsman than the others.
As was only to be expected, the luck presently turned against him, and one night, after long play, he found himself not only stripped of all his money, but in debt to Reinhardt. This position was irksome to a high-spirited temperament. The idea of owing money to his superior was unendurable, and after a restless night, during which he slept little, he resolved to borrow from his chum enough to clear him.
"Got a few dollars to spare, old chap?" he said with an assumed light-heartedness at breakfast.
Burroughs flushed, and cast his eyes upon his plate: an onlooker would have thought from his manner that he was the culprit. He knew very well what was coming, and felt instinctively what Errington had suffered inwardly before he could have brought himself to this point.
"You can have what you like, Pidge--in reason, of course."
"Thanks. I could do with twenty or thirty dollars just now. Sorry to trouble you."
"Oh, hang it, man, don't talk such rot. What's mine's yours any time you like."
Errington pocketed the money hastily, and spoke of something else. His discomfort was so obvious that Burroughs hoped he would drop the card-playing forthwith. Until the monthly cheque for his salary arrived, indeed, Errington absented himself from Reinhardt's parties. He repaid Burroughs at once, and for a week or two never went out in the evening. But then the old restlessness crept upon him; once more he joined the jolly party; then not an evening passed without his leaving the chummery as soon as it was dark, not to return until long past midnight. His losses became more serious, and he played again in an attempt to retrieve them, only to plunge deeper still.