"Not at all," said the Sergeant, "not at all, my dear fellow. I thought it right you should know—be prepared, you understand."
"Thank you, Sergeant," said The Don. "Any time my books can be seen. Good-bye."
The Don went in to Shock, sent the nurse out for a walk, shut the door, and then, returning to the bed, threw himself on his knees.
"Oh, Shock," he said, "this is too much. What can I say?"
"Nothing at all, old chap. Don't say anything What is that between us? We have been through too many things together to have this bother us."
"Shock! Shock!" continued The Don, "I have been an awful fool, a blank, cursed fool!"
"Don't swear, old chap," said Shock.
"No, no, I won't, but I curse myself. I have been waiting for this chance to tell you. I don't want you to think too badly of me. This thing began in Hickey's saloon some days before that night. He was playing some fellows from the camp a skin game. I called him down and he challenged me. I took him up, and cleaned him out easily enough. You know my old weakness. The fever came back upon me, and I got going for some days. That night I was called to visit a sick girl at Nancy's. The gang came in, found me there, and throwing down their money dared me to play. Well, I knew it was play or fight. I took of my coat and went for them. They cleaned me out, I can't tell how. I could not get on to their trick. Then, determined to find out, I put up that—that other money, you know—and I was losing it fast, too, when you came in."
As Shock listened to The Don's story his face grew brighter and brighter.
"My dear fellow," he said in a tone of relief, "is that all? Is that the whole thing? Tell me, as God hears you!"