"Hullo, fellows! The lady has suggested wine. Will you help us clean up a bottle or two?"
"Sure thing!" replied the "Cap."
Hardman was glad to agree. His eyes were watching the face of his lord, with the same expression as shines in the eyes of a hungry cur watching his master feast. Both the Cap and he had tales of woe to tell: their troubles lay sore upon them.
The party entered the booth against which John and George were sitting. As they entered and seated themselves, the two friends could hear their voices through the hangings. At first there was nothing in the words they spoke that their brazen natures would not have willingly advanced to all the world—at least, to all Dawson's world; but later the wine made them forget. They had not realized that the wall of their compartment was only a blanket.
"Two bottles of wine!" Poo-Bah demanded. The waiter brought the bottles and glasses, and Poo-Bah signed the "tab."
"Now you pay that tab, or I don't get no percentage," said the girl.
"Suppose I don't pay," answered he: "you know these damn fools from the creeks will buy all kinds of wine just to have the honour of drinking with my girl—ain't that right?"
"I guess it is," she answered, with a cold unpleasant laugh. "Because men are fools makes life easy for you and me—ain't that right?"
"Look here, I've got a kick coming," said the mariner, thumping his knee with a fist like mahogany.
"What's the matter, Cap?"