worse; for the door leading to the bar-room of the boat was near at
hand. A darky boy stood grinning, arranging a table, offering
cards and tobacco in a tempting tray. The two drew up leisurely to
the table, and presently were joined by the gentlemen whom Dunwody
had mentioned. For the time, then, as two of the four reflected,
there was a truce, a compromise.




CHAPTER IV

THE GAME

They made a group not uninteresting as they gathered about the
table in the deck saloon. The youngest of the four received the
deference generally accorded the uniform he wore, and returned the
regard due age and station in the civilian world. For the moment
rid of one annoying question, he was quite his better self, and
added his quota in the preliminary badinage of the game. Across
the table from him sat Judge Henry Clayton of New Madrid, a tall
and slender gentleman with silky white mustaches and imperial,
gentle of speech, kindly of countenance, and with soft, white
hands, whose long fingers now idly raised and let fall some of the
parti-colored tokens of the game.

[Illustration: They made a group not uninteresting.]

At Clayton's side, Dunwody, younger, larger and more powerful, made
something of a contrast. Both these gentlemen had removed their