"Don't you. Unless you got more money than you want to keep."
"Oh I say," said Slicker, and turned from Hopper's scarlet face to Cordy, expecting to see the anger that he knew was in his own eyes. But Cordy laughed, although there was a dull flush on his cheeks.
"Losers are allowed some latitude," he said. "I'm sorry, Hopper, but you can't win every time. Just see what your luck last night has done to your temper!"
"We were not playing for such big stakes last night."
"Lord, man; you don't call these big stakes! Don't be sarcastic. Coming, Slicker?"
A moment Slicker hesitated. Then he slipped into Hopper's chair, and Hopper turned and walked out of the room sharply. The game went on, and Cordy's easy manner soon brushed the restraint off it. But Slicker played badly. He felt vaguely outraged; not so much at the accusation as at the fact that Cordy did not seem to resent it. For his own honour, for the honour of the Force, for the honour of this little post itself, Cordy ought have resented it before this quiet-eyed, observant civilian who lost his money with such equanimity. Slicker had worked himself into acute indignation by the time the evening was done, and Cordy had cheerfully seen the prospector into his room down the passage and had come back to turn the lamp out. Smith was gone; but Slicker sat at the table with his blue eyes alight and that square look on his jaw which Cordy had come to know. He went straight to his point.
"Why didn't you give Hopper the lie just now?" he demanded.
Cordy yawned. But there was an unpleasant look in his eyes.
"This life imposes bonds considerably tighter than the marriage-bond, my dear boy," he said. "I have probably got to live with Hopper for the next few years and he is my boss."
"Will it improve the situation to have him think you a cheat?"
"My dear Slicker!" Cordy laughed, but his cheeks took their dull flesh again. "You haven't learnt the graces
