“Let it be cards,” the caballero answered.
“Ah! Cards it is!” He picked up the dice and returned them to his pocket, and then reached for the pack, and his long fingers shuffled the bits of pasteboard with a skill born of experience.
“But not that pack of cards, señor!” There was a certain ring in the caballero’s voice that caused the ensign to glance at him sharply and made the mule’s owner flush. The smile left the latter’s face and his chuckling ceased again.
“You have objections to this particular pack of cards?” he asked.
“I have indeed, señor. This is to be a game of chance, not one of skill.”
“Just what do you mean by that, señor?”
“We are playing for high stakes, perhaps—possibly for more than a mule and guitar. Suppose we use some deck of cards procured by our good friend, the sergeant. There will be no question then of—er—undue familiarity with a certain pack.”
“You mean to insinuate, señor, that I would cheat at cards?”
“Would you use my private deck, señor, had I one with me?”
“Possibly not.”