There was nothing outré about either the shirt, the pantaloons, the head-dress, or foot-gear. All were in keeping—all were in a style that at that period was the mode upon the lower Mississippi. It was not, therefore, the dress of this youth that had arrested my attention. I had been in the habit of seeing such, every day. It could not be that. No—the dress had nothing to do with the interest which he had excited. Perhaps my regarding him as the author of the brief counsel that had been uttered in my ear had a little to do with it—but not all. Independent of that, there was something in the face itself that forcibly attracted my regard—so forcibly that I began to ponder whether I had ever seen it before. If there had been a better light, I might have resolved the doubt, but he stood in shadow, and I could not get a fair view of him.
It was just about this time that I missed him from his station in the corner of the saloon, and a minute or two later were heard the shouts and shots from without.
“And now, Monsieur, may I inquire why you wish to speak to me, and what you have to say?”
I was beginning to feel annoyed at the interference of this young fellow. A man does not relish being suddenly pulled up from a game of whist; and not a bit the more that he has been losing at it.
“Why I wish to speak to you is, because I feel an interest in you. What I have to say you shall hear.”
“An interest in me! And pray, Sir, to what am I indebted for this interest?”
“Is it not enough that you are a stranger likely to be plundered of your purse?—a green-horn—”
“How, Monsieur?”
“Nay, do not be angry with me. That is the phrase which I have heard applied to you to-night by more than one of your new acquaintances. If you return to play with them, I think you will merit the title.”
“Come, Monsieur, this is too bad: you interfere in a matter that does not concern you.”