Thereupon Nomad crossed over and entered the El Rio himself.
It was too early for the gamblers. The El Rio was almost deserted.
A bar ran along one side of the mirrored and tinseled room, and along the other side were arranged roulette-tables, faro lay-outs, poker-tables, and other gambling paraphernalia.
Toward the rear, the big room merged into a three-foot corridor, on either side of which doors opened into private gambling-rooms.
Nomad entered the front door of the “chance” establishment just in time to see Jacobs entering a private room. It was the first room on the left, off the rear corridor. A low-browed, villainous-looking man entered the room with Jacobs.
The door closed. The trapper sauntered over to the bar and bought a cigar. Then he walked back, announced his desire for a retired place, and was shown by an attendant into the first room on the right.
“Forty-rod,” said he to the waiter; “a stiff glass o’ et.”
The waiter brought the “forty-rod,” received his pay, and a generous tip, and retired.
Nomad had no intention of beclouding his faculties with the contents of the glass, so he left it untasted.