A voice boomed forth:
"Come on, now, gentlemen. Two ladies have come with posies in tall
silver vases and a white altar cloth for this table. The preacher's
coming over from Folsom, and there will be church held here in one hour.
He's a busy man today. An infant will be given a license to travel the
long and uncertain road to heaven, and a pair of happy lovers will be
made one."
"One - unhappy pair."
It's William Duncan. He's intoxicated again," drawled Gentleman Jack,
stretching his graceful length and smiling at a long, aristocratic
figure crouched over a small table in a corner. "His last strike turned
out to be only a small pocket, and so he drowns his woes in liquor, as
usual." He bowed to his recent card partners. "Gentlemen, I am sincerely
sorry for your losses this night. I shall sleep an hour before the holy
man arrives. He sauntered out, stuffing a buckskin bag of gold dust into
his pocket.
"There lies my pocket - in his pocket," muttered Duncan. "No, Stinson"
raising his voice authoritatively, "I shall not go out.
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