There was more than "luck" against him, if he had but known it.

"The fortune of war," smilingly replied the winner. "The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, you know. You played well--very well; never better within my knowledge. But, as you say, luck was against you. And, by the way, what a curious and uncertain thing this luck is! I've seen men lose at every turn of the card, until they had parted with thousands; and then, on a borrowed dollar, perhaps, start again, and not only get every thing back, but break their antagonists. This is an every-day occurrence, in fact."

Wilkinson had risen from the table, and was pacing the room in a fretful, impatient manner. Suddenly he stopped. A light flashed over his face. Then, sitting down, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a pen, and writing on a slip of paper--"Due Andrew Carlton $20," signed it with his name.

Carlton saw every letter and word as they left the pen, and ere the last flourish was made to the signature, had selected four five-dollar bills from the pile beside him. Simultaneously with the motion of Wilkinson's hand, in pushing to him this memorandum of debt, was the motion of his hand in furnishing the sum required.

"Not the man to be frightened at a little adverse fortune, I see,"

remarked the cunning tempter. "Well, I do like a man who never can acknowledge himself beaten. The timid and easily discouraged are soon left far behind in the world's race--and they deserve to be."

Wilkinson did not reply. Another deal was made, and again the two men bent over the table in their unequal contest.

In less than half an hour, the money obtained from Carlton had gone back to him.

By this time twilight had fallen.

"Nearly eight o'clock, as I live!" muttered Wilkinson. He had drawn forth his watch. "I had no idea of this. And we are ten miles from the city!"

A thought of his anxiously waiting wife flitted across his mind. He remembered her last pleading injunction for him to come home early, and the promise he had given. Alas! like so many more of his promises to her, made to be broken.

"Shall we return now; or order supper here?" said Carlton, in his bland way.

"I must go back immediately," replied Wilkinson. "It is an hour later than I supposed. I was to have been home early this evening."

"It is too late now to join your family at tea. They have given you out before this. So, I think we'd better order supper here. The moon is full, and it will be almost as clear as daylight; and much pleasanter riding, for the dew will keep down the dust. What say you?"

The end was, Wilkinson yielded.

"Not down in the mouth, because of this little run of ill-luck?" said Carlton, in a bantering way, as he saw a cloud settling over the face of his victim.

Lights had been brought in, and the two men still remained seated by the table at which they had been playing, awaiting the preparation of supper.

"I'm never down in the mouth," replied Wilkinson, forcing a smile to his countenance. "Better luck next time, has always been my motto."

"And it will carry you safely through the world. Try another gla.s.s of brandy."

"No--I've taken enough already."

"It isn't every man who knows when he has enough," returned the other.

"I've often wished that I knew exactly the right gauge."

And, as Carlton spoke, he poured some brandy into a gla.s.s, and, adding a little water, affected to take a deep draught thereof; but, though the gla.s.s was held long to his mouth, only a small portion of the contents pa.s.sed his lips. In replacing the tumbler on the table, he managed to give it a position behind the water-pitcher where the eye of Wilkinson could not rest upon it. He need hardly have taken this trouble, for his companion was too much absorbed in his own thoughts to notice a matter like this.

"They're a long time in getting supper," remarked Carlton, in a well-affected tone of impatience. "What is the time now?"

Wilkinson drew forth his watch, and, after glancing upon the face, replied--

"Ten minutes after eight."

"We shall have it pretty soon now, I suppose. They don't understand the double quick time movement out here."

As Carlton said this, his eyes rested, with more than a mere pa.s.sing interest, on the gold lever that Wilkinson, instead of returning to his pocket, retained in one hand, while with the other he toyed with the key and chain in a half-abstracted manner.

For the s.p.a.ce of nearly a minute, neither of the men spoke, but the thought of each was at the same point.

"That's a beautiful watch," at length Carlton ventured to say. There was a well disguised indifference in his tones.

"It ought to be," was the reply of Wilkinson.

"What did it cost you?"

"One hundred and forty dollars."

"Is it a good time-keeper?"

"First-rate. It hasn't varied a minute in six months."

"Just such a watch as I would like to own. I've had terrible bad luck with watches."

This was a kind of feeler.

No reply was made by Wilkinson, although an offer to sell trembled on his tongue. He still kept the watch in his hand, and toyed with the key and chain, as before, in an absent manner.

"Could you be tempted to sell?" finally asked Carlton.

"I don't know. Perhaps I might,"--said Wilkinson. He drew his breath deeply as he spoke.

"Or, perhaps you would trade?" and Carlton now produced his gold lever.

"Mine is a very good watch, though not so valuable as yours. It keeps fair time, however. I paid a hundred dollars for it three or four years ago."

A mutual examination of watches took place.

"Well--what do you say to a trade?"

The servant appeared at this juncture, and announced supper. The two watches were returned to their respective places of deposit, and the two men proceeded to the dining-room. Here the traffic, just begun, was renewed and completed. The watches were exchanged, and Wilkinson received sixty dollars "boot."

"Shall I order the horse brought out?" asked Carlton, as they arose, about half an hour afterwards, from the supper-table.

"Yes; if you please."

This was not said with much promptness of tone; a fact instantly noted by the ear of Carlton.

"Well, I'm ready. Come--let's have a drink before we go!"

The two men stepped to the bar and drank. Then they lingered, each with a lighted cigar, and finally withdrew--to proceed to the city? No. To return to their room up-stairs, and renew their unequal contest. The sixty dollars which Wilkinson had received were staked, and soon pa.s.sed over to his adversary. Rendered, now, desperate by his losses and the brandy which inflamed his brain, he borrowed, once more, on his due-bill--this time to the amount of several hundred dollars. His ill-success continued.

It was nearly eleven o'clock, when Wilkinson started up from the table, exclaiming, as he threw the cards upon the floor--