The two outside went under the shaft of light and peeped into the rear of the room. There was Matthews, one of five at a square table. A cigar-box partly filled with coin and chips was before him. In front of the other players were other chip-piles. About the five, hanging over them, almost pressing upon them, were a number of troopers. Two or three were idle onlookers. But the majority were following with excited interest every turn of the cards. "Wretches being plucked of their good six months' pay," whispered Fraser. "Looks like they're in for all night," Lounsbury returned. But the officer was pinching him. "Sh! See there!" A half-drunken trooper was interrupting the game. He had reeled forward to the table, and seemed to be addressing himself to Matthews, who, as he answered, glanced up indifferently. The trooper continued, emphasising his words by raising a clenched fist and striking the board a blow. The chip-piles toppled. He turned to those about, gesticulating. A few surrounded him, evidently bent on leading him toward the door. Others appeared to be continuing the dispute with Matthews. But as the disturber was pushed out, they gradually subsided. "I've got an idea," announced the storekeeper. And he disappeared around a corner. When he returned he was leading the trooper and talking low to him. All three retired to the shadow of the wall. Here there was a colloquy. First, Lounsbury held forth; next, the trooper, protestingly. When the lieutenant broke in, two phrases were frequently repeated--"to the guard-house," and "won't if you will." At last the three went back to the window. "Remember," cautioned the storekeeper, "we don't want all these shebangs stirred up." "Needn't worry," said Fraser. "Just listen to that rumpus down street." The disjointed music of a wheezy accordion was rending the night. With it sounded the regular stamp of feet. Now, the trooper rounded the corner. A moment and, through the window, Lounsbury and the officer saw him enter the door. He slipped down to a seat beside Old Michael. There he stayed for a while. Whenever a brother trooper looked his way, he called him up by the crooking of a finger and whispered to him. Before long a knot of men had again surrounded him. But this time their attention was all for the table at the rear of the room. There the game was going on. Matthews' chip-pile showed where the winnings were gravitating. In the dim light there was a strained look on the faces of the players. Deal after deal passed. Finally, one of the five, having no more disks before him, pushed back his chair and got up. As he stood, dazed and dismayed, the trooper who had been ejected appeared at his side, clapped him upon the back and spoke. At their elbows was the knot that had gathered at the stove.