“And do as you please.”
“Had enough?”
“Yes. Bezique.”
“I’ll deal.”
“No—no; cat.”
The cards were dealt on the two rough boards, and they played, using the old coins they had brought with them as counters. Pan watched a little while, then he retired, finding there was nothing more to eat, and stretched himself a few yards away. The fire fell lower, flickered, blazed again: the last sticks thrown on burning off in the middle broke and half rolled off one side and half the other; the smoke ceased to rise, the heated vapour which took its place was not visible. By-and-by the moon’s white light alone filled the interior of the stockade, and entered in at the doorway of the hut, for the glimmer of the horn-lantern did not reach beyond the boards of their tables. At last the candle guttered and went out, but they played on by the moonlight.
“Ah, ah!” said Bevis presently.
“Double bezique!” shouted Mark; “and all the money’s mine!”
Pan looked up at the noise.
“The proper thing is, to shoot you under the table,” said Bevis: “that’s what buccaneers do.”