An I.D.B. in South Africa Part 5

"Two."

"I'll chance one."

"What is it that makes people sick?" continued Schwatka.

"It is often fear that makes people ill. They fear this and fear that; their thoughts dwell upon a dread disease, or they apprehend some danger in business affairs, until their thoughts are so saturated with the dread, that it is impossible to escape from it."

"This looks good for a pound," put in the major.

"I'll see that and raise you five," said the doctor.

"I'll see that five and go you five better," said Kildare.

"I'll see that and raise you ten," returned the doctor.

"Call you, Doctor. You can't scare me with a bob-tail flush." The doctor threw his cards in the pack. The major smiled as he raked in the stakes, and asked the doctor to continue on his theory.

"Many men," he observed, "of supposed integrity on the Fields, are illicit diamond buyers. They are constantly haunted by the fear of detection, and they will try to deceive themselves into the belief that the dread that is eating them up is some liver or stomach trouble, and they come to the doctor for relief. That they are tracked by this invisible foe no further proof is needed than the fact that last year six of our leading business men committed suicide. Fear is a ghost which stalks to and fro over the earth, forever haunting the imaginations of men."

"Raise you a fiver," called the major.

"See that, and ten better," replied the doctor.

"Call you, doctor."

"Queens."

"Never bet on the women, Doctor; Kings."

"Heavy betting for so light a hand," remarked Herr Schwatka.

"I've won a thousand with a smaller. It's sand, not cards, that wins at Poker. Half past ten!--as I have to be present at an interesting surgical operation, within the next hour, I think we had better discontinue our game."

CHAPTER TEN.

AN EXPLOSION OR TWO.

"We have time for a game or two yet, Doctor, and let us make it a Jack-pot," said the major.

"All right. I'll open it for a pound," said the doctor, looking at two cards.

"How many cards will you have?"

"I'll stand pat."

"I'll take three."

"Major, I think these are worth a fiver."

"Mine are worth ten."

"Well, let me see. I'll see that ten and raise you twenty."

"Kilters won't work in a Jack-pot. I think you're bluffing with that pat hand."

"It will only cost you twenty pounds more to find out."

"I'll see that twenty and raise you fifty," said the major.

"There is your fifty, and one hundred on top. Now your curiosity may be more expensive. I think it will take all that to make me even,"

rejoined the doctor. The Englishman hesitated, and raised it another hundred.

"Well, here goes; I'll call you. I don't like high play among friends, Major. What have you got?"

The major dropped three kings and two aces. The doctor showed four sixes.

"I thought you played with sand, and not with cards, Doctor," remarked the major, sarcastically.

"They are both useful in the game of poker," replied the doctor as he tipped back in his chair.

The major's face showed signs of annoyance, but with a forced calmness he said:

"It is early yet; shall we not continue?"

"I think we have played long enough for one sitting," responded the doctor. "It is eleven now; recollect my consultation. I trust you may have better luck next time."

"I hardly think it quite square to quit, and I so heavy a loser."

"I am not accustomed to having my squareness questioned, Major. My record here and elsewhere shows no entry of unfair play; but we will not continue this line of conversation. Gentlemen, you are my guests."

"Herr Schwatka is your friend, and mine. He shall settle the question,"

continued the major, turning to Schwatka.

"I beg you, gentlemen," said Schwatka, "to arrange this matter without any quarrel."

"Herr Schwatka," said the doctor, slowly, "there will be no quarrel. It takes two to make one, and I shall not be a party. I merely say, that long play, and high play, tends to mar friendship, and we cannot afford to be other than friends."

"Dr Fox, I regret that I have met a card sharper, instead of a gentleman," cried the major, choking with rage.

"Major, do not lose your temper so cheaply. Name your loss and I will return the sum to you."

The brow of Kildare clouded as black as night, and he fiercely exclaimed:

"Do you mean to insult me, sir? I am no beggar to ask alms. You add insult to injury, and shall answer for it."

He and Schwatka had risen to their feet during this heated colloquy.

The doctor alone remained seated.

Leaning his arm on the table he said, in a low and firm voice: