‘What! does Mr. Brown play?’ ‘He! Bless your soul—’suddenly checking himself—‘he plays the same as you and I might, just a little for sport.—That’s all: he’s not a heavy player; or, I might say it is more for amusement than anything else that he occasionally—very seldom, though—lays down a slug.’ There are two classes of people who are quick at detecting villainy, the accomplished rogue and the honest, simple-hearted man. The sight of the latter is the more clear of the two as far as it goes, while the former measures more correctly the _extent_ of the intended deception. But Monteagle was, at this moment, disposed to interpret every thing in the most favorable manner, and fancied that he saw in Blodget’s hesitation a generous endeavor to conceal the picadilloes of Mr. Brown, his employer. He felt convinced that Blodget knew more than he was willing to tell, and there rushed upon his recollection several little circumstances of a somewhat equivocal character connected with the conduct of Mr. Vandewater’s partner. Just then, a stout, rude, and hairy man, nearly as broad as he was long, with large goggle eyes, and a low, retreating forehead, came swaggering up to Blodget, followed by a large and very savage-looking dog. ‘Good night—good night—my old boy,’ cried he in a rough and loud tone. ‘Ha! ha! glad to see you.’ Blodget stared at the fellow as if he had some trouble in recognizing him. ‘No savez, eh! No savez!’ cried the man. ‘Oh, well, any other time will do. I understand—a pigeon there—don’t want to be known, ha! ha! I’m just from Sacramento, old boy. Plenty of dust—’ At this moment, the dog, who had been smelling about Monteagle, braced himself opposite the youth and gave a horrible growl, during which he showed his fangs. The youth, believing that the animal was about to spring upon him, drew a small revolver, and prepared to defend himself. ‘Eh—youngster!’ bellowed the brutal owner of the dog. ‘Love me, love my dog, you know. Don’t hurt that dog, sir.’ ‘Certainly not, unless he attempts to hurt me,’ returned Monteagle. ‘Afraid of a dog, eh? Ha, ha!’ ‘No, not afraid of a dog,’ returned Monteagle, highly incensed, ‘for you may observe that I don’t act as if I was afraid of _you_, do I?’