ing, and walked directly up to the "bank."

We reached the outer circle, and looked over the shoulders of the
players. "_Shade of Fortuna! Chorley and Hatcher_!"

Yes--there sat the two sharpers, side by side, behind the faro-table--
not as mere bettors, but acting respectively as banker and croupier of
the game! Chorley held the dealing-box in his fingers, while Hatcher
sat upon his right, with cheques, dollars, and bank-notes piled upon the
table in front of him! A glance around the ring of faces showed us the
pork-merchant as well. There sat he in his loose jeans coat and broad
white-hat, talking farmer-like, betting bravely, and altogether a
stranger to both banker and croupier!

My companion and I regarded each other with a look of surprise.

After all, there was nothing to surprise us. A faro bank needs no
charter, no further preliminaries to its establishment than to light up
a table, spread a green baize over it, and commence operations. The
sportsmen were no doubt quite at home here. Their up-river excursion
was only by way of a little variety--an interlude incidental to the
summer. The "season" of New Orleans was now commencing, and they had
just returned in time for it. Therefore there was nothing to be
surprised at, in our finding them where we did.

At first seeing them, however, I felt astonishment, and my companion
seemed to share it. I turned towards him, and was about proposing that
we should leave the room again, when the wandering eye of the pseudo
pork-merchant fell upon me.

"Hilloa, stranger!" he cried out, with an air of astonishment, "you
hyar?"

"I believe so," I replied unconcernedly.

"Wal! wal! I tho't you war lost. Whar did you go, anyhow?" he inquired
in a tone of vulgar familiarity, and loud enough to turn the attention
of all present upon myself and my companion.

"Ay--_whar_ did I go?" I responded, keeping my temper, and concealing
the annoyance I really felt at the fellow's impudence.

"Yes--that's jest what I wanted to know."

"Are you very anxious?" I asked.

"Oh, no--not particklerly so."

"I am glad of that," I responded, "as I don't intend telling you."

With all his swagger I could see that his crest fell a little at the
general burst of laughter that my somewhat _bizarre_ remark had called
forth.

"Come, stranger," he said, in a half-deprecatory, half-spiteful tone,
"you needn't a be so short-horned about it, I guess; I didn't mean no
offence--bu