“Sit down,” said the other, peremptorily—“you will need something to help you along the road. Shall we take another?”
So they took yet another drink, and Carpenter went out, calling his dog.
Travis stood in the doorway and watched them go down the driveway. They both staggered lazily along. Travis smiled: “Both drunk—the dog on ham.”
As he turned to go in, he reeled slightly himself, but he did not notice it.
When he came back he was restless. He looked at the clock. “Too early for bed,” he said. “I'd give a ten if Charley Biggers were here with his little cocktail laugh to try me a game of poker.”
Suddenly he went to the window, and taking a small silver whistle from his pocket he blew it toward the stables. Soon afterwards a well dressed mulatto boy entered.
“How are the horses to-night, Jim?” he asked.
“Fine, sir—all eatin' well an' feelin' good.”
“And Coquette—the saddle mare?”
“Like split silk, sir.”