"No--but I MUST,
you know," he returned, with a faint laugh.
"I say--it ain't a HER, is it?" said Uncle Jim.
Uncle Billy achieved a diabolical wink and a creditable blush at his
lie.
"Billy?"
"Jim!"
And under cover of this festive gallantry Uncle Billy escaped. He ran
through the gathering darkness, and toiled up the shifting sands to the
top of the hill, where he found the carriage waiting.
"Wot," said Uncle Billy in a low confidential tone to the coachman,
"wot do you 'Frisco fellers allow to be the best, biggest, and riskiest
gamblin'-saloon here? Suthin' high-toned, you know?"
The negro grinned. It was the usual case of the extravagant spendthrift
miner, though perhaps he had expected a different question and order.
"Dey is de 'Polka,' de 'El Dorado,' and de 'Arcade' saloon, boss," he
said, flicking his whip meditatively. "Most gents from de mines prefer
de 'Polka,' for dey is dancing wid de gals frown in. But de real prima
facie place for gents who go for buckin' agin de tiger and straight-out
gamblin' is de 'Arcade.'"
"Drive there like thunder!" said Uncle Billy, leaping into the carriage.
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