Contented with the turn things have taken, and proud at the volley of
invitations, De Lara accepts; and soon the vintage of France is seen
effervescing from a dozen tall glasses, and the Monte dealer stands
drinking in the midst of his admirers.
Other groups draw up to the bar-counter, while twos and solitary
tipplers fill the spaces between.
The temple of Fortuna is for a time deserted, her worshippers
transferring their devotion to the shrine of Bacchus. The losers drink
to drown disappointment, while the winners quaff cups in the
exhilaration of success.
If a bad night for the bank, it is a good one for the bar. Decanters
are speedily emptied, and bottles of many kinds go "down among the dead
men."
The excitement in the "El Dorado" is soon over. Occurrences of like
kind, but often of more tragical termination, are too common in
California to cause any long-sustained interest. Within the hour will
arise some new event, equally stirring, leaving the old to live only in
the recollection of those who have been active participants in it.
So with the breaking of Frank Lara's bank. A stranger, entering the
saloon an hour after, from what he there sees, could not tell, neither
would he suspect that an incident of so serious nature had occurred.
For in less than this time the same Monte table is again surrounded by
gamesters, as if its play had never been suspended. The only difference
observable is that quite another individual presides over it, dealing
out the cards, while a new croupier has replaced him whose cash receipts
so suddenly ran short of his required disbursements.
The explanation is simply that there has been a change of owners,
another celebrated "sport" taking up the abandoned bank and opening it
anew. With a few exceptions the customers are the same, their number
not sensibly diminished. Most of the old players have returned to it,
while the places of those who have defected, and gone off to other
gambling resorts, are filled by fresh arrivals.
A small party of gentlemen, who think they have had play enough for that
night, have left the "El Dorado" for good. Among these are the English
officers, whose visit proved so prejudicial to the interests of the
place.
De Lara, too, and Calderon, with other confederates, have forsaken the
saloon. But whither gone no one knows, or seems to care; for the
fortunes of fallen men soon cease to interest those who are themselves
madly struggling to mount up.