"
"Well, s'pose--" started Keno, but what he intended to say was never
concluded.
"What's the fight?" interrupted a voice, and the men shuffled aside to
give room to a well-dressed, dapper-looking man. It was Parky, the
gambler. He was tall, and easy of carriage, and cultivated a curving
black mustache. In his scarf he wore a diamond as large as a marble.
At his heels a shivering little black-and-tan dog, with legs no larger
than pencils and with a skull of secondary importance to its eyes,
followed him mincingly into the circle and stood beside his feet with
its tail curved in under its body.
"What have you got? Huh! Nothing but a kid!" said the gambler, in
supreme contempt.
"And a pup!" said Keno, aggressively.
The gambler ignored the presence of the child, especially as Tintoretto
bounded clumsily forward and bowled his own shaking effigy of a canine
endways in one glad burst of friendship.
The black-and-tan let out a feeble yelp. With his boot the gambler
threw Tintoretto six feet away, where he landed on his feet and turned
about growling and barking in puppywise questioning of this sudden
manoeuvre. With a few more staccato yelps, the shivering black-and-tan
retreated behind the gambler's legs.
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