At last we went booming through the Golden Gate, and my pulses leaped for joy.

I hurried back to that door and glanced in.

Alas, there was small room for hope--Backus's eyes were heavy and bloodshot, his sweaty face was crimson, his speech maudlin and thick, his body sawed drunkenly about with the weaving motion of the ship.

He drained another glass to the dregs, whilst the cards were being dealt.
He took his hand, glanced at it, and his dull eyes lit up for a moment.
The gamblers observed it, and showed their gratification by hardly perceptible signs.
'How many cards ?' 'None!' said Backus.
One villain--named Hank Wiley--discarded one card, the others three each.

The betting began.