Nat obeyed, and returned in a minute with Tommy half dressed, rather tousled about the head and very sleepy, but quite ready for fun as usual.
“Now, keep quiet, and I’ll show you how to play a first-rate game called ‘Poker,’” said Dan, as the three revellers gathered round the table, on which were set forth the bottle, the cigar, and the cards. “First we’ll all have a drink, then we’ll take a go at the ‘weed,’ and then we’ll play. That’s the way men do, and it’s jolly fun.”
The beer circulated in a mug, and all three smacked their lips over it, though Nat and Tommy did not like the bitter stuff. The cigar was worse still, but they dared not say so, and each puffed away till he was dizzy or choked, when he passed the “weed” on to his neighbor. Dan liked it, for it seemed like old times when he now and then had a chance to imitate the low men who surrounded him. He drank, and smoked, and swaggered as much like them as he could, and, getting into the spirit of the part he assumed, he soon began to swear under his breath for fear some one should hear him. “You mustn’t; it’s wicked to say ‘Damn’!” cried Tommy, who had followed his leader so far.
“Oh, hang! don’t you preach, but play away; it’s part of the fun to swear.”
“I’d rather say ‘thunder-turtles,’” said Tommy, who had composed this interesting exclamation and was very proud of it.
“And I’ll say ‘The Devil;’ that sounds well,” added Nat, much impressed by Dan’s manly ways.
Dan scoffed at their “nonsense,” and swore stoutly as he tried to teach them the new game.
But Tommy was very sleepy, and Nat’s head began to ache with the beer and the smoke, so neither of them was very quick to learn, and the game dragged. The room was nearly dark, for the lantern burned badly; they could not laugh loud nor move about much, for Silas slept next door in the shed-chamber, and altogether the party was dull. In the middle of a deal Dan stopped suddenly, called out, “Who’s that?” in a startled tone, and at the same moment drew the slide over the light. A voice in the darkness said tremulously, “I can’t find Tommy,” and then there was the quick patter of bare feet running away down the entry that led from the wing to the main house.
“It’s Demi! he’s gone to call some one; cut into bed, Tom, and don’t tell!” cried Dan, whisking all signs of the revel out of sight, and beginning to tear off his clothes, while Nat did the same.
Tommy flew to his room and dived into bed, where he lay laughing till something burned his hand, when he discovered that he was still clutching the stump of the festive cigar, which he happened to be smoking when the revel broke up.