Spring Chicken had remained passive during the recital of the more sober worldling. Sundry muttered oaths had sufficed him until it was over, when he made the lucid explanation:
"Reas'l didl't—hic—dam decoy—bet ol red—ev'ry cent—hic!"
This the worldling translated and the murder was out. When we lost sight of the boys on the Southern Republic, they had ordered wine. At dinner they had more; and—glowing therewith, as they sat over their cigars on the gallery—did not "stop their ears," but, on the contrary, "listed to the voice of the charmer." When the stool pigeon once more stood in the doorway, rattling his half dollars, they followed him into the den of the tiger.
"Faro" went against them; "odd-and-even" was worse; rouge-et-noir worst of all; and at night they were sober and dead broke, an unpleasant but not infrequent phase of boat life.
"Didl't have aly wash to spout," remarked Spring Chicken, with his head under his arm.
"Yes—we owed our wine bill," continued the middie, whose worldliness decreased as he got sober, "and our trunk was in pawn to the nigger we owed a quarter for taking care of it. So as soon as the boat touched, I ran for'ard and jumped off, while he waited to keep the things in sight till I came back."
"So he was in pawn, too, egad!" said the colonel.
"Thasso, ol' cock!" hiccoughed Spring Chicken.
"And when I got the money and we went up town, we met the cussed decoy again, and we were fools enough to go again——"
"Williz molley—damniz—hic—eyes!" interpolated the other.