An odd expression came over the gambler's face.
"Look here," he said abruptly, "I have passed my word to the crowd yonder that you are a dead-broke miner called Fowler.

I allowed that you might have had some row with that Sydney duck, Australian Pete, in the mines.

That satisfied them.

If I go back now, and say it's a lie, that your name ain't Fowler, and you never knew who Pete was, they'll jest pass you over to the police to deal with you, and wash their hands of it altogether.

You may prove to the police who you are, and how that d--- clerk mistook you, but it will give you trouble.