Our adventurers were now apprehensive that they were to be separated. Their only hope was that the bargaining would not end there; but would extend to a further exchange of six blacks for the two remaining whites.
Their conjectures were interrupted by their seeing that the “swop” was not yet considered complete.
What followed, in fact, showed them that it was not a regular trade at all; but a little bit of gambling between the two sheiks, in which Terence and the three young blacks were to be the respective stakes.
Old Bill was able to explain the proceedings from his experience of the preceding night; and, as he saw the two sheiks repair to the place where his own proprietorship had been decided, he cried out, “Ye’re goin’ to be gambled for, Masther Terry! Och! ye’ll be along wid me; for the black can bate the owld Arab at that game, all hollow.”
The holes in which the helga had been played on the proceeding night, were now resorted to. The proper number of dung pellets were procured, and the game proceeded.
It ended as the old man-o’-war’s-man had prognosticated, by the black sheik becoming the winner and owner of Terence O’Connor.
The Arab appeared sadly chagrined, and by the way in which he strutted and stormed over the ground, it was evident he would not rest satisfied with his loss. When did gamester ever leave gaming-table so long as a stake was left him to continue the play?
Two of the midshipmen still belonged to the old sheik. With these he might obtain a revanche. He made the trial. He was unfortunate as before. Either the luck was against him, or he was no match at “desert draughts” for his sable antagonist.
It ended in the black sheik becoming the owner of the three midshipmen; who, restored to the companionship of Sailor Bill, in less than twenty minutes after the conclusion of the game were trudging it across the desert in the direction of Timbuctoo.