his shoulders and gathered up the cards.
“You're the silliest fool I ever knew,” he said bluntly, “but I suppose you'll worry me into a fever if you don't have your own way.”
“You agree?” Monty shrieked. Trent nodded and dealt the cards.
“It must be a show after the draw,” he said. “We can't bet, for we've nothing to raise the stakes with!”
Monty was breathing hard and his fingers trembled, as though the ague of the swamps was already upon him. He took up his cards one by one, and as he snatched up the last he groaned. Not a pair!
“Four cards,” he whispered hoarsely. Trent dealt them out, looked at his own hand, and, keeping a pair of queens, took three more cards. He failed to improve, and threw them upon the floor. With frantic eagerness Monty grovelled down to see them—then with a shriek of triumph he threw down a pair of aces.
“Mine!” he said. “I kept an ace and drew another. Give me the brandy!”
Trent rose up, measured the contents of the bottle with his forefinger, and poured out half the contents into a horn mug. Monty stood trembling by.
“Mind,” Trent said, “you are a fool to drink it and I am a fool to let you! You risk your life and mine. Sam has been up and swears we must clear out to-morrow. What sort of form do you think you'll be in to walk sixty miles through the swamps and bush, with perhaps a score of these devils at our heels? Come now, old 'un, be reasonable.”
The veins on the old man's forehead stood out like whipcord.
“I won it,” he cried. “Give it me! Give it me, I say.”
Trent made no further protest. He walked back to where he had been lying and recommenced his Patience. Monty drank off the contents of the tumbler in two long, delicious gulps! Then he flung the horn upon the floor and laughed aloud.
“That's better,” he cried, “that's better! What an ass you are, Trent! To imagine that a drain like that would have any effect at all, save to put life into a man! Bah! what do you know about it?”
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