“The mother of the boy, or not?” continued Dewhurst.  “I say she is; and, in place of fifty, I’ll make it a hundred.”

“Have you ever seen them before?” asked Hamilton, trying to be calm.

“Never.  I know no more of them than you do; and, besides, I give you your choice of mother, or not mother.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Campbell, as he looked intently at Dewhurst.  “Are you mad, Dewhurst?  Has your last triumph blinded you?  The woman is too old by ten years.”

Hamilton turned round without saying a word, and drew cautiously near the lady, whose eyes, as she stood looking at a foreign ship coming in, were still scornful, and it seemed as if she waited until some gentleman came up to inform him of the cruel act she had so recently witnessed.  Resisting her fiery glances, he surveyed her calmly, looking by turns at her and the boy.  A slight smile played on his lip in the midst of the indications of his wrath.  One might have read in that expression—­

“Not a feature in these two faces in the least similar, and the age is beyond all mortal doubt.  I have the gull-flayer on the hip at last.”

And returning to the companions with the same simulated coolness—­

“Done for a hundred,” he said.  “That lady is not the mother of that boy.”

“Agreed,” answered Dewhurst, with a look of inward triumph.  “How to be decided?”

“By the lips of the lady herself.”

“Agreed.”

“Yes,” joined Campbell, “if you can get these lips to move.  She looks angry, and now she is moving along probably for home, bequeathing to us the last look of her scorn.  We shall give her time to cool down, and Cameron and I will then pay our respects to her.  We shall get it out of the boy if she refuse to answer.”

It was as Campbell said.  The lady with the boy, who held her by the hand, had begun her return along the jetty.  The companions kept walking behind; and of these, Campbell and Dewhurst fell back a little from the other two.

“Hark, Campbell,” said Dewhurst.  “Back me against Cameron for any sum you can get out of him.  I’m sure of my quarry; and,” laughing within the teeth, he added, “I’ll gull him again.”

“You’re ruined, man,” whispered his companion.  “The woman is evidently too old, and I am satisfied you will catch some of her wrinkles.”

A deeper whisper from Dewhurst conveyed to the ear of his friend—­

“I heard the boy call her mother.”

“The devil!” exclaimed Campbell in surprise; but, catching himself, “it might have been grandmother he meant.”

“No, no.  Children in Scotland use grandma’, never ma’, to grandmother.  I’m satisfied; and if you are not a fool, take advantage of my “—­

“Dishonesty,” added Campbell.

“No; all fair with that fellow Hamilton.  Besides, all bets assume a retention of reasons, otherwise there could be no bets.  In addition, I did not assert that I did not hear them address each other.”