They are expert fencers, but I notice it is mighty seldom one of them is killed in a duel.

They sometimes draw a drop of blood, and then they consider that 'honor is satisfied,' and that ends it." It was midway in the forenoon that Frank met Mr.Slush on deck.

The little man was looking more doleful and dejected than ever, if possible.
"The--ah--the moon showed rather yellow last night," he said.

"That is a--a sure sign of disaster." "Well," said Merry, with a smile, "I think the disaster will befall you, sir, if you do not steer clear of the crowd you were in last night." Mr.Slush looked surprised.
"Might I--ah--inquire your meaning ?" he faltered.
"I mean that you are playing poker with card-sharps, and they mean to rob you," answered Frank, plainly.
"I--I wonder how you--er--know so much," said the little man, with something like faint sarcasm, as Frank fancied.
"It makes little difference how I know it, but I am telling you the truth.

I am warning you for your good, sir." "Er--ahem! Thank you--very much." Mr.Slush walked away.
"Well, I'm hanged if he doesn't take it coolly enough!" muttered Frank, perplexed.
Frank felt an interest to know how Sport Harris was getting along.