"The risk ain't good enough," replied Marsh, sullenly and yet with an attempt at lightness. "I don't like them red crosses. I've had enough of 'em, whoever works 'em—man or devil—he's cured me!"
"Cured you?" queried Jim Harley, glancing up from his hand.
"Yes, cured me!" cried Marsh forcibly, "and I don't care who knows it. I ain't 'shamed to say it, neither. I've broke my arm, lost a canoe, and a camp—and a good job! Ain't that enough? I quit! I quit right now."
"Do you mean you'll quit playing cards?" asked Rayton.
"I guess you know what I mean," retorted David. "And I guess Jim Harley knows, too."
"Oh, shut up!" snapped old Wigmore. "We came here to play poker, not to listen to you. Who sits in and takes this heroic gentleman's place? Goodine, it's up to you."
"Don't care if I do," said the trapper; so he and David Marsh changed seats.
The game went on for half an hour without any fuss. Doctor Nash was winning. Then, after a throwdown, Rayton gathered up the old pack and replaced them with a new.
"You are growing extravagant, Reginald," said the captain, glancing at him keenly.
Rayton laughed.