The Quadroon Part 37

"Perhaps, stranger, _you_ wish to take a hand? You may have my place if you do. I have no luck. I could not win under any circ.u.mstances to-night. I shall give up playing."

This appeal caused the rest of the players to turn their faces towards me, and among others the pork-dealer. I expected an ebullition of anger from this individual. I was disappointed. On the contrary, he hailed me in a friendly tone.

"Hilloa, mister!" cried he, "I hope you an't miffed at me?"

"Not in the least," I replied.

"Fact, I meant no offence. Did think thar war a some 'un overboard.

Dog-gone me, if I didn't!"

"Oh! I have taken no offence," rejoined I; "to prove it, I ask you now to drink with me."

The juleps and the late reaction from bitter thought had rendered me of a jovial disposition. The free apology at once won my forgiveness.

"Good as wheat!" a.s.sented the pork-dealer. "I'm your man; but, stranger, you must allow me to pay. You see, I've won a trifle here.

_My_ right to pay for the drinks."

"Oh! I have no objection."

"Well, then, let's all licker! _I_ stand drinks all round. What say you, fellars?" A murmur of a.s.sent answered the interrogatory.

"Good!" continued the speaker. "Hyar, bar-keeper! drinks for the crowd!"

And so saying, he of the white-hat and jeans coat stepped forward to the bar, and placed a couple of dollars upon the counter. All who were near followed him, shouting each out the name of the beverage most to his liking in the various calls of "gin-sling", "c.o.c.ktail", "cobbler,"

"julep", "brandy-smash," and such-like interesting mixtures.

In America men do not sit and sip their liquor, but drink standing.

_Running_, one might say--for, be it hot or cold, mixed or "neat," it is gone in a gulp, and then the drinkers retire to their chairs to smoke, chew, and wait for the fresh invitation, "Let's all licker!"

In a few seconds we had all liquored, and the players once more took their seats around the table.

The gentleman who had proposed to me to become his successor did not return to his place. He had no luck, he again said, and would not play any more that night.

Who would accept his place and his partner? I was appealed to.

I thanked my new acquaintances, but the thing was impossible, as I had never played Euchre, and therefore knew nothing about the game, beyond the few points I had picked up while watching them.

"That ar awkward," said the pork-dealer. "Ain't we nohow able to get up a set? Come, Mr Chorley--I believe that's your name, sir?" (This was addressed to the gentleman who had risen.) "You ain't a-goin' to desart us that away? We can't make up a game if you do?"

"I should only lose if I played longer," reiterated Chorley. "No,"

continued he, "I won't risk it."

"Perhaps this gentleman plays 'whist,'" suggested another, alluding to me. "You're an Englishman, sir, I believe. I never knew one of your countrymen who was not a good whist-player."

"True, I can play whist," I replied carelessly.

"Well, then, what say you all to a game of whist?" inquired the last speaker, glancing around the table.

"Don't know much about the game," bluntly answered the pork-dealer.

"Mout play it on a pinch rayther than spoil sport; but whoever hez me for a partner 'll have to keep a sharp look-out for himself, I reckon."

"I guess you know the game as well as I do," replied the one who had proposed it.

"I hain't played a rubber o' whist for many a year, but if we can't make up the set at Euchre, let's try one."

"Oh! if you're goin' to play whist," interposed the gentleman who had seceded from the game of Euchre--"if you're going to play whist, I don't mind taking a hand at _that_--it may change my luck--and if this gentleman has no objection, I'd like him for my partner. As you say, sir, Englishmen are good whist-players. It's their national game, I believe."

"Won't be a fair match, Mr Chorley," said the dealer in hog-meat; "but since you propose it, if Mr Hatcher here--your name, sir, I believe?"

"Hatcher is my name," replied the person addressed, the same who suggested whist.

"If Mr Hatcher here," continued white-hat, "has no objection to the arrangement, I'll not back out. Doggoned, if I do!"

"Oh! I don't care," said Hatcher, in a tone of reckless indifference, "anything to get up a game."

Now, I was never fond of gambling, either amateur or otherwise, but circ.u.mstances had made me a tolerable whist-player, and I knew there were few who could beat me at it. If my partner knew the game as well, I felt certain we could not be badly damaged; and according to all accounts he understood it well. This was the opinion of one or two of the bystanders, who whispered in my ear that he was a "whole team" at whist.

Partly from the reckless mood I was in--partly that a secret purpose urged me on--a purpose which developed itself more strongly afterwards-- and partly that I had been bantered, and, as it were, "cornered" into the thing, I consented to play--Chorley and I _versus_ Hatcher and the pork-merchant.

We took our seats--partners _vis-a-vis_--the cards were shuffled, cut, dealt, and the game began.

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

THE GAME INTERRUPTED.

We played the first two or three games for low stakes--a dollar each.

This was agreeable to the desire of Hatcher and the pork-merchant--who did not like to risk much as they had nearly forgotten the game. Both, however, made "hedge bets" freely against my partner, Chorley, and against any one who chose to take them up. These bets were on the turn-up, the colour, the "honours," or the "odd trick."

My partner and I won the two first games, and rapidly. I noted several instances of bad play on the part of our opponent. I began to believe that they really were not a match for us. Chorley said so with an air of triumph, as though we were playing merely for the honour of the thing, and the stakes were of no consequence. After a while, as we won another game, he repeated the boast.

The pork-dealer and his partner seemed to get a little nettled.

"It's the cards," said the latter, with an air of pique.

"Of coorse it's the cards," repeated white-hat. "Had nothing but darned rubbish since the game begun. Thar again!"

"Bad cards again?" inquired his partner with a sombre countenance.

"Bad as blazes! couldn't win corn-shucks with 'em."

"Come, gentlemen!" cried my partner, Chorley; "not exactly fair that--no hints."

"Bah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the dealer. "Mout show you my hand, for that matter.

Thar ain't a trick in it."

We won again!