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Updated: May 14, 2025
Her lover had never seen her vigorous nature so badly affected. But he realized the terrors she had been through. Bill looked at her. "Well?" "Yonder." She pointed to the distant hills. "Foss River is no longer possible." "The day that sees Lablache " "Yes come." Bill gazed lingeringly in the direction of the settlement. Jacky followed his gaze. Then she touched Nigger's flank with her spur.
The lashless eyes of the money-lender were bent upon the cards, but he had no difficulty in observing the old man's attention. This unusual attention he set down to a natural excitement. He had not the smallest idea that the old man suspected him. He passed the cards to be cut. The rancher cut them carelessly. He had a natural cut. The pack was nearly halved. Lablache had prepared for this.
Have a drink of your own whisky I'll join you and let us go down to the saloon for a gentle flutter." He helped himself to the spirit and poured out a glass for his companion. They silently drank, and then Lablache coughed, spat and lit his pipe. He fumbled his hat on to his head and moved to the door. "Come on, then," he said gutturally. And John Allandale followed him out.
"Guess you ain't enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they were seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't a notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them barns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid. They're on'y jest cavin'."
No, Lablache, I never thought you contemplated such a thing. You must go to her. I will not interfere. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" and the old man laughed again nervously. Lablache remained perfectly calm. He had expected this result; although he had hoped that it might have been otherwise. Now he felt that he had paved the way to methods much dearer to his heart.
"What say, John Doc a little game until breakfast?" John Allandale's face lit up. His sobriquet was no idle One. He lived for poker he loved it. And Lablache knew it. Old John turned to the others. His right cheek twitched as he waited the decision. "Doc" Abbot smiled approval; "Lord" Bill shrugged indifferently. The old gambler rose to his feet. "That's all right, then.
He feared the vacillation which the solitary hours of the night might bring to him. He leant forward and thickly urged the money-lender. "When shall it be? Quick, man, let us have no delay. The time, Lablache the time and place." Lablache wheezed unctuously. "That's the spirit I like, John," he said, fingering his watch-chain with his fat hands. "To business. The place er yes."
We have said that the money-lender was no coward; at that moment he was desperate. The nearest Breed received a terrific buffet in the neck, then, in spite of his bound feet, Lablache seized his heavy swivel chair, and, raising it with all his strength he hurled it at the other. Still Relief's pistol was silent. The money-lender noticed the fact, and he became even more assured.
He rode towards them. "Hallo, Bill, whither bound?" said the old rancher, as the younger man came up. "Going to join us in the parlor of Smith's fragrant hostelry? The spider is already there weaving the web in which he hopes to ensnare us." Bunning-Ford shook his head. "Who's the spider Lablache?" "Yes, we're going to play. It's the first time for some days.
I saw Sergeant Horrocks and old Shylock leaving your veranda. Hot lot isn't it? And all Lablache's cattle, too." A look of deep concern was on his keen face. Lablache might have been his dearest friend. Jacky smiled over at him. "Poker" John looked pained. "Guess you're right, Bill," said the rancher. "Hot very hot. I pity the poor devil if Lablache lays a hand on him.
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