n and go
back to town when the downpour was over. Gard's friend squared
accounts--four hundred and eighty marks passed across. He looked
unhappy enough. But the dealer was still far from satisfied because
the American had not played. The German had won from the other two.
Could he not win from an American in an American game? He had been
eager to wager at one turn all the money he had gained.

"A pair of cheap gamblers," Gard repeated to himself. He wished his
foolish friend from Wuerttemberg had kept out of it. They were here
on the edge of a strange city, in an unknown inn, at nightfall. It
showed that Furstenheimer was a green country man who, as he
admitted, had seldom been away from home. He had not even seen his
neighboring Rhine in years.

The rain was now pelting them and they scurried indoors.

CHAPTER XL

THE END OF A LITTLE GAME

The short German had worked himself up into an irritable state. He
led the way about the arrangements for dining, his tall friend all
the while mildly attempting to soothe his ruffled feelings.
Furstenheimer, appearing much crest-fallen, meekly followed their
wishes.

A private room must be had, the dealer announced. They took a
detached one with the door opening out toward the highway. Each one
of the three proposed to have a favorite dish from his province.

The little German grew more fussy. He condemned the restaurant
manager and got at loggerheads with the waiter. He must at least
have a Mecklenburg salad as he came from Mecklenburg-Schwerin. The
waiter did not know what it was and the irascible Teuton informed
him bluntly that he was a _Dummkopf_. The card player would make it
himself and all must do him the honor of eating it. He proclaimed in
a loud voice that it was the superior of all salads. He had won at
cards, the money stuck out of his pockets. He was triumphant and
becoming insolent.

Kirtley wished he were out of this company. He opened the outside
door a moment for fresh air. He noticed that the door had a spring
lock. The rain was coming down in torrents. And he ought not to
abandon his naive friend.

The repast was begun by drinking the prevailing toast to Der Tag!
His companions now talked openly about the threatening war, and
Gard, who had not seen a paper since morning, did not know that
hostilities were at last in the way of breaking out. From the
conversation he could but judge that all Belgium and northern France
were to be made German.