"
This was very mystifying to Dave, and he said so.
"The woman'll recognize me, quick enough," Blaze asserted, and
then, "God knows what Paloma will do."
"Really! Is it that bad?"
"It's a vile story, Dave, and I never expected to tell anybody;
but it's bound to come out on me now, so you better hear my side.
Last summer I attended a convention at Galveston, and one hot day
I decided to take a swim, so I hired a suit and a room to cache my
six-shooter in. It was foolish proceedings for a man my age, but
the beach was black with people and I wasn't altogether myself.
You see, we'd had an open poker game running in my room for three
days, and I hadn't got any sleep. I was plumb feverish, and needed
a dip. Well, I'm no water-dog, Dave; I can't swim no better than a
tarrapin with its legs cut off, but I sloshed around some in the
surf, and then I took a walk to dreen off and see the sights. It
was right interesting when I got so I could tell the women from
the men--you see I'd left my glasses in the bath-house.
"Now I'd sort of upheld the general intemperance of that poker
game for three days and nights--but I don't offer my condition as
an excuse for what follows.
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