"No, I ain't scart. Just oneasy. D'ye reckon them little crosses will turn up to-night?"
"Guess not. That sort o' thing don't happen more'n once."
"Will you swear you didn't cut my canoe pole, Dick—so help you God!"
"So help me God, I didn't cut it nor harm it in any way. And I don't know who did."
"I believe you—now. I guess there's something worse nor you on my trail. If that marked card turns up to-night, and comes to me, I'll git out o' the country. That'll be the cheapest thing to do, I guess."
"I wouldn't if I was you. I'd just lay low and keep my eyes skinned."
Then Doctor Nash arrived, and all pulled their chairs to the table except Dick Goodine. They drew for cards and Mr. Banks produced an ace. The pack was swiftly shuffled, cut, and dealt. David Marsh put his left hand on the table, touched his cards, hesitated for a moment, and then sprang to his feet. His face was twisted with a foolish grin.
"I guess not!" he exclaimed. "It ain't good enough for me."
The captain, having settled down to business, had lost his sweet and playful temper.
"What's that?" he snapped. "Not good enough! What's not good enough?"