“But why should you? A ‘sport,’ a professional gambler! The thing would be simply ridiculous.”
“Nothing of the kind—not here in California. On the contrary, I should cut a more ridiculous figure by refusing him satisfaction. It remains to be seen whether he’ll seek it according to the correct code.”
“That he won’t; at least, I don’t think he will. From the way that lot have got their heads together, it looks as if they meant mischief, now. They may have been watching their opportunity—to get us two alone. What a pity we didn’t see them before our friends went off! They’re good fellows, those Yankee officers, and would have stood by us.”
“No doubt they would. But it’s too late now. They’re beyond hailing distance, and we must take care of ourselves. Get your dirk ready, Will, and have your hand close to the butt of that shooting-iron, you took from Mr De Lara.”
“I have it that way. Never fear. Wouldn’t it be a good joke if I have to give the fellow a pill out of his own pistol?”
“No joking matter to us, if they’re meditating an attack. Though we disarmed him in the morning, he’ll be freshly provided, and with weapons in plenty. I’ll warrant each of the four has a battery concealed under his cloak. They appear as if concocting some scheme—which we’ll soon know all about—likely before leaving the house. Certainly, they’re up to something.”
“Four hundred and ninety dollars, gentlemen!”
The financial statement is made by the office clerk presenting the bill.
“There!” cries Crozier, flinging down a five hundred dollar bill. “Let that settle it. You can keep the change for yourself.”
“Thank ye,” dryly responds the Californian dispenser of drinks, taking the ten dollar tip with less show of gratitude than a London waiter would give for a fourpenny piece—little as that may be.