“Such as that offered by this most malarious country,” ventured the judge gravely.

“Well, yes, since you mention it, on such an occasion as this.  But Tom—­” turning to the colored boy, “Make it very light; ver-r-ry light.  Hold on thah, you rascal, not too light!”

The Honorable William Jones set an example in which he was joined temperately by the judge, the others contenting themselves in completing their arrangements for the game.  The tokens were distributed, and in accordance with the custom of the time, the table soon was fairly well covered with money of divers sorts, gold coin, a lesser amount of silver, bills issued by many and divers banks in this or that portion of the country.

Silence fell when the game really began.  The Honorable William Jones at first ever and anon threatened to erupt into Roman facts and figures, but chilly glances made his answer.  Half an hour, and the passing of time was forgot.

At first the cards ran rather severely against the judge, and rather in favor of the historian, who played “the said poker” with such thoroughness that presently there appeared before him a ragged pile of currency and coin.  Dunwody and Carlisle were losers, but finally Dunwody began to edge in upon the accumulated winnings of his neighbor on the right.  An hour passed, two hours, more.  The boat plowed on down-stream.  Presently the colored boy began to light lamps.  There came to the faces of all the tense look, the drawn and lined visage which is concomitant to play for considerable stakes.  A frown came on the florid countenance of the young officer.  The pile of tokens and currency before him lessened steadily.  At last, in fact, he began to show uneasiness.  He thrust a hand into a pocket where supplies seemed to have grown scarce.  There is small mercy in a game of poker hard played, but at least one of his opponents caught some such signal of distress.  Dunwody looked up from his own last hand.

“Don’t leave us just yet, friend,” he said.  “You may draw on me for all you like, if you care to continue.  We shall see that you get a ticket back home.  No man can ask more than that!”

“I have a thousand acres of cotton land ’n a hunnerd niggers waitin’ for me to git home,” said the Honorable William Jones, “an’ by hockey, I raise the ante to twenty dollars right hyer!  Are you all comin’ in?”

“I have at least that much left in my locker,” answered Judge Clayton.  “What do you say to doubling that?”

“Suit me,” said Dunwody briefly; they nodded assent all around, but the younger man ventured: 

“Suppose I sit with you for one jack-pot, gentlemen.  The hour is growing late for me, and I must plead other duties.  When a man is both busy and broke, it is time for him to consider.”

“No, no,” expostulated the Honorable William Jones, who long since had forgotten his rule regarding one drink a day.  “No, no, not broke, and not busy!  Not at all!”