The entire party at that time numbered only nine, including Polly, Bounce, and Badger, the other members of the crew of the Lively Poll having separated soon after leaving San Francisco. But as all of them were men of generous spirit, Watty’s cap soon contained a very creditable “c’lection,” which was made up forthwith into a bag, and carried with some cooked provisions by Polly to Redman’s Gap, under the safe escort of her father and Baldwin Burr.
The following evening, after supper, Philosopher Jack quietly put his last bag of gold into his pocket and went off with it to Higgins’ store. On the way up he entered into a debate with himself as to the rectitude of gambling. He seemed to himself to be composed of two persons, one of whom condemned, while the other defended gambling. But Jack had a strong will of his own. He was not to be lightly turned from a purpose, either by the disputants within him or by the arguments of his friend Wilkins. Being a good reasoner, our philosopher found that the condemner of gambling within him was rapidly getting the best of the argument; he therefore brought the matter to a point by suddenly exclaiming aloud, “Now, the question is, shall I do it?”
“Don’t?” said his old, brusque, but faithful friend Conscience, with a promptitude that made him quite uncomfortable.
“Or,” continued Jack slowly, “shall I go back and wait to see whether things will turn and mend?”
“Do!” answered his friend at once.
If Jack had put more questions, he would have received clear and emphatic replies, but he merely said, “Pooh!” and when a man says “pooh!” to conscience, he is in a very bad way indeed.
At Higgins’ store gold-miners assembled to buy and sell, to talk and drink and gamble. As the necessaries of life were procured there, miners of all sorts, from the steady to the disreputable, were to be found assembled at times, but it was chiefly the latter who “hung about” the place. No notice was taken of Jack as he mingled with the crowd, except by one or two acquaintances, who gave him a passing nod of recognition.
At the bar there was assembled a boisterous group, who were laughing heartily at something. Jack joined it, and found a tall, half-tipsy man offering to bet with another. When men are smitten with the gambling spirit anything that affords a “chance” will serve their turn.
“See here, now,” said the tall man, looking round, “I repeat, that I’ll bet any man ten dollars—all I have in the world—that there’s not any four of the men in this store can prevent my lifting this tumbler of water to my lips.”
He held out a tumbler in his right hand as he spoke, and straightened his long sinewy arm.