"I didn't know but he would challenge me to a duel."
"What if he had?"
"What if he had?" hissed the hot-blooded Southern youth. "I'd fought him
at the drop of the hat!"
"That's all right, but you know most Frenchmen fight well in a duel."
"I don't know anything of the kind. They are expert fencers, but I
notice it is mighty seldom one of them is killed in a duel. They
sometimes draw a drop of blood, and then they consider that 'honor is
satisfied,' and that ends it."
It was midway in the forenoon that Frank met Mr. Slush on deck. The
little man was looking more doleful and dejected than ever, if possible.
"The--ah--the moon showed rather yellow last night," he said. "That is
a--a sure sign of disaster."
"Well," said Merry, with a smile, "I think the disaster will befall you,
sir, if you do not steer clear of the crowd you were in last night."
Mr. Slush looked surprised.
"Might I--ah--inquire your meaning?" he faltered.
"I mean that you are playing poker with card-sharps, and they mean to
rob you," answered Frank, plainly.
"I--I wonder how you--er--know so much," said the little man, with
something like faint sarcasm, as Frank fancied.
"It makes little difference how I know it, but I am telling you the
truth. I am warning you for your good, sir."
"Er--ahem! Thank you--very much."
Mr.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69