"Twice your age, my son.But do not make any miscalculation about my capacity for tokayer.""Any miscalculation?" Maurice echoed.
"Yes; if you plan to get me drunk.There are no troopers about, and it would be easy enough for you to slip out if I should lose my head."Maurice's laugh had a false ring to it.The Colonel had made a very shrewd guess.
"Well!" said the Colonel, with a gesture toward the table.
They sat down, and both made an excellent dinner.Maurice demolished a roasted pheasant, stuffed with chestnuts, while the Colonel disintegrated a duck.The wine came, and the servants ranged six bottles on the side of each plate.It was done so gravely that Maurice laughed heartily.The wine was the oldest in Madame's cellar, and Maurice wondered at the Colonel's temerity in selecting it.The bottles were of thick glass, fat-bottomed, and ungainly, and Maurice figured that there was more than a pint in each.It possessed a delicious bouquet.The Colonel emptied three bottles, with no more effect than if the wine had been water.Maurice did not appreciate this feat until he had himself emptied a bottle.It was then he saw that the boot was likely to be on the other foot.
He looked at the Colonel enviously; the old soldier was a gulf.
He had miscalculated, indeed.But he was fertile in plans, and a more reasonable one occurred to him.He drank another bottle and began to talk verbosely.Later he grew confidential.He told the Colonel a great many things which-- had never happened, things impossible and improbable.The Colonel listened soberly, and nodded now and again.Dinner past, they pushed the remains aside and began to play poker, a game at which the Colonel proved to be no novice, much to Maurice's wonder.
"Why, you know the game as thoroughly as an Arizona corporal.""I generally spend a month of the winter in Vienna.One of your compatriots taught me the interesting game." The Colonel shuffled the cards."It is the great American game, so I am told.""O, they play checkers in the New England states," said Maurice, hiccoughing slightly."But out west and in all the great cities poker has the way.""What have you got?" asked the Colonel, answering a call.
"Jacks full."
"Takes the pot;" and this Americanism came so naturally that Maurice roared.
"Poker is a great preliminary study to diplomacy," said the Colonel, as he scrutinized his hand."You raise it?""Yes.One card.Diplomacy? So it is.I played a game with the Chinese ambassador in Washington one night.I was teaching him how to play.I lost all the ready money I had with me.Next day I found out that he was the shrewdest player in the diplomatic circles.Let's make it a jackpot.""All the same to me."
And the game went on.Presently Maurice threw aside his coat.He was feeling the warmth of the wine, but he opened another bottle.
"Is there any truth," said the Colonel, "about your shooting a man who is found cheating in your country?""There is, if you can draw quicker than he." Maurice glanced at his hand and threw it down.
"What did you have?"
"Nothing.I was trying to fill a straight.""So was I," said the Colonel, sweeping the board."It's your deal." He unbottoned his coat.
Maurice felt a shiver of delight.Sticking out of the Colonel's belt was the ebony handle of a cavalry revolver, and he made up his mind to get it.There were no troopers around--the Colonel had admitted as much.He began talking rapidly, sometimes incoherently.In a corner of the room he saw the cords which had been around his wrists and ankles the night before.
"Poker," said the Colonel, "depends mostly on what you Americans call bluff.A bluff, as I understand it, is making the others think you have them when you haven't, or you haven't got them when you have.In one case you scare them, in the other you fish.
You're getting flushed, my son; you'll have a headache to-night;and in an hour you start."
An hour! There was fever in Maurice's veins, but it was not caused wholly by the heat of the wine.How should he manage it?
He must have that revolver.
"Call? What have you got?" asked the Colonel.
"Three kings--no, by George! only a pair.I thought a queen was a king.My head's beginning to get shaky.Colonel, I believe Iam getting drunk."
"I am sure of it."
Maurice got up and rolled in an extraordinary fashion, but he was careful not to overdo it.He began to sing.The Colonel got up, too, and he was laughing.Maurice accidentally knocked over some empty bottles; he kicked them about.
"Sh!" cried the Colonel, coming around the table; "you'll stampede the horses."Maurice staggered toward him, and the Colonel caught him in his arms.Maurice suddenly drew back, and the Colonel found himself looking into the cavernous tube of his own revolver.Not a muscle in his face moved.
"Take off your coat," said Maurice, quietly.
The Colonel complied."You are not so very drunk just now.""No.It was one of those bluffs when you make them think you haven't them when you have.""What next?" asked the Colonel.
"Those cords in the corner."
The Colonel picked them up, sat down and gravely tied one around his ankles.Maurice watched him curiously.The old fellow was rather agreeable, he thought.
"Now," the Colonel inquired calmly, "how are you going to tie my hands? Can you hold the revolver in one hand and tie with the other?""Hang me!" exclaimed Maurice, finding himself brought to a halt.
