He relapsed into an affectation of thoughtfulness. Trent watched him curiously. He knew quite well that his partner was dissembling, but he scarcely saw to what end. Monty's eyes, moving round the grass-bound hut, stopped at Trent's knapsack which hung from the central pole. He uttered a little exclamation. “I have it,” he declared. “The very thing.” “Well!” “You are pleased to set an altogether fictitious value upon half bottle of brandy we have left,” he said. “Now I tell you what I will do. In a few months we shall both be rich men. I will play you for my I O U, for fifty pounds, fifty sovereigns, Trent, against half the contents of that bottle. Come, that is a fair offer, is it not? How we shall laugh at this in a year or two! Fifty pounds against a tumblerful--positively there is no more--a tumblerful of brandy.” He was watching Trent's face all the time, but the younger man gave no sign. When he had finished, Trent took up the cards, which he had shuffled for Poker, and dealt them out for Patience. Monty's eyes were dim with disappointment. “What!” he cried. “You don't agree! Did you understand me? Fifty pounds, Trent! Why, you must be mad!” “Oh, shut up!” Trent growled. “I don't want your money, and the brandy's poison to you! Go to sleep!” Monty crept a little nearer to his partner and laid his hand upon his arm. His shirt fell open, showing the cords of his throat swollen and twitching. His voice was half a sob. “Trent, you are a young man--not old like me. You don't understand my constitution. Brandy is a necessity to me! I've lived on it so long that I shall die if you keep it from me. Remember, it's a whole day since I tasted a drop! Now I'll make it a hundred. What do you say to that? One hundred!” Trent paused in his game, and looked steadfastly into the eager face thrust close to his. Then he shrugged his shoulders and gathered up the cards. “You're the silliest fool I ever knew,” he said bluntly, “but I suppose you'll worry me into a fever if you don't have your own way.” “You agree?” Monty shrieked. Trent nodded and dealt the cards. “It must be a show after the draw,” he said. “We can't bet, for we've nothing to raise the stakes with!” Monty was breathing hard and his fingers trembled, as though the ague of the swamps was already upon him. He took up his cards one by one, and as he snatched up the last he groaned. Not a pair! “Four cards,” he whispered hoarsely. Trent dealt them out, looked at his own hand, and, keeping a pair of queens, took three more cards. He failed to improve, and threw them upon the floor. With frantic eagerness Monty grovelled down to see them--then with a shriek of triumph he threw down a pair of aces. “Mine!” he said. “I kept an ace and drew another. Give me the brandy!” Trent rose up, measured the contents of the bottle with his forefinger, and poured out half the contents into a horn mug. Monty stood trembling by.