"All to the bar!" yelled Orde.
They made a rush, and lined up and ordered their drinks. Orde
poured his on the floor and took the glass belonging to the man next
him.
"Get them to give you another, Tim," said he. "No knock-out drops,
if I can help it."
The men drank, and some one ordered another round.
"Tim," said Orde, low-voiced, "get the crowd together and we'll pull
out. I've a thousand dollars on me, and they'll sand-bag me sure if
I go alone. And let's get out right off."
Ten minutes later they all stood safely on the lighted thoroughfare
of Water Street.
"Good-night, boys," said Orde. "Go easy, and show up at the booms
Monday."
He turned up the street toward the main part of the town. Newmark
joined him.
"I'll walk a little ways with you," he explained. "And I say, Orde,
I want to apologise to you. 'Most of the evening I've been thinking
you the worst fool I ever saw, but you can take care of yourself at
every stage of the game. The trick was good, but your taking the
other fellow's drink beat it."
VIII
Orde heard no more of Newmark--and hardly thought of him--until over
two weeks later.
In the meantime the riverman, assuming the more conventional
garments of civilisation, lived with his parents in the old Orde
homestead at the edge of town.
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