"Lord! I've heard him sing away just like that when he's been leaving
the board with five thousand dollars in his pocket, or going away
stripped of his last red cent."

Van Loo, who had been listening with a peculiar smile, here said in his
most deprecating manner, "Yes, but did you never consider the influence
that such a man has on the hard-working tunnelmen, who are ready to
gamble their whole week's earnings to him? Perhaps not. But I know the
difficulties of getting the Ditch rates from these men when he has been
in camp."

He glanced around him with some importance, but only a laugh followed
his speech. "Come, Frenchy," said an old locator, "you only say that
because your little brother wanted to play with Jack like a grown
man, and when Jack ordered him off the board and he became sassy, Jack
scooted him outer the saloon."

Van Loo's face reddened with an anger that had the apparent effect of
removing every trace of his former polished repose, and leaving only a
hard outline beneath. At which Demorest interfered:--

"I can't say that I see much difference in gambling by putting money
into a hole in the ground and expecting to take more from it than by
putting it on a card for the same purpose."

Here the ravishing tenor voice, which had been approaching, ceased, and
was succeeded by a heart-breaking and equally melodious whistling to
finish the bar of the singer's song. And the next moment Jack Hamlin
appeared in the doorway.