‘Oh! no need for alarm. He’s not after you particularly—at least not to-day,’ said Craig, with a shadow of a smile. ‘But he is going about in good style, I can tell you.’
By this time I was quite awake. ‘Well, what particular style does His Majesty affect this morning?’
He pulled out a showbill. ‘Peculiarly gaudy and effective, is it not?’
The items announced were sufficiently attractive. The ‘Frisco Opera Company were to produce the ‘screaming farce,’ ‘The Gay and Giddy Dude’; after which there was to be a ‘Grand Ball,’ during which the ‘Kalifornia Female Kickers’ were to do some fancy figures; the whole to be followed by a ‘big supper’ with ‘two free drinks to every man and one to the lady,’ and all for the insignificant sum of two dollars.
‘Can’t you go one better?’ I said.
He looked inquiringly and a little disgustedly at me.
‘What can you do against free drinks and a dance, not to speak of the “High Kickers”?’ he groaned.
‘No!’ he continued; ‘it’s a clean beat for us today. The miners and lumbermen will have in their pockets ten thousand dollars, and every dollar burning a hole; and Slavin and his gang will get most of it. But,’ he added, ‘you must have breakfast. You’ll find a tub in the kitchen; don’t be afraid to splash. It is the best I have to offer you.’
The tub sounded inviting, and before many minutes had passed I was in a delightful glow, the effect of cold water and a rough towel, and that consciousness of virtue that comes to a man who has had courage to face his cold bath on a winter morning.
The breakfast was laid with fine taste. A diminutive pine-tree, in a pot hung round with wintergreen, stood in the centre of the table.