“Showed how little he knew,” said the lieutenant. “I told him you would be delighted.” “Will you come in?” said Ranald, rather grudgingly, “though there is nothing much inside.” “What a bear,” said Mr. Sims to Harry, disgustedly, in a low voice. “Nothing much!” said the lieutenant, “a good deal I should say from what one can hear.” “Oh, that is nothing,” replied Ranald; “the boys are having some games.” The bar-room was filled with men in shanty dress, some sitting with chairs tipped back against the wall, smoking the black French “twist” tobacco; others drinking at the bar; and others still at the tables that stood in one corner of the room playing cards with loud exclamations and oaths of delight or disgust, according to their fortune. The lieutenant pushed his way through the crowd, followed by the others. “A jolly lot, by Jove!” he exclaimed, looking with mild interest on the scene, “and with the offer of some sport, too,” he added, glancing at the card-players in the corner, where men were losing their winter's wages. “What will you take?” said Ranald, prompted by his Highland sense of courtesy, “and would you have it in the next room?” “Anywhere,” said the lieutenant, with alacrity; “a little brandy and soda for me; nothing else in these places is worth drinking.” Ranald gave the order, and with some degree of pride, noticed the obsequious manner of the bar-tender toward him and his distinguished guests. They passed into an inner and smaller room, lit by two or three smoky lamps in brackets on the walls. In this room, sitting at one of the tables, were two Frenchmen playing ecarte. As the lieutenant entered, one of them glanced up and uttered an exclamation of recognition. “Ah, it is our warlike friend,” cried De Lacy, recognizing him in return; “you play this game also,” he continued in French. “Not moche,” said LeNoir, for it was he, with a grand salute. “Will the capitaine join, and his friends?” Ranald shook his head and refused. “Come along,” said the lieutenant, eagerly, to Ranald. The game was his passion. “Mr. Sims, you will; Harry, what do you say?” “I will look on with Ranald.” “Oh, come in Macdonald,” said the lieutenant, “the more the better, and we'll make it poker. You know the game?” he said, turning to LeNoir; “and your friend--I have not the pleasure--” “Mr. Rouleau,” said Ranald and LeNoir together, presenting the young Frenchman who spoke and looked like a gentleman. “Do you play the game?” said the lieutenant. “A verie leetle, but I can learn him.” “That's right,” cried the lieutenant, approvingly. “What do you say, Ranald,” said Harry, who also loved the game. “No,” said Ranald, shortly, “I never play for money.” “Make it pennies,” said Mr. Sims, with a slight laugh. “Go on, De Lacy,” said Harry, angry at Mr. Sims's tone. “You've got four--that'll do!”