The Gambler woke with a start and glanced at his old-fashioned stemwinder by the side of his bunk. Two in the afternoon!! Well, it had been a long night, and worth every minute to watch that strange craft crash and burn in the deeps off Point Sharp. He smiled, and rolled himself onto his feet.

In the salon, Robert E. Leej was starting in on a late order of ham, grits, easy-overs and 'taters when Delacroix slipped through the kitchen door, carrying a carpet bag and a duffel sack that bulged in a number of dimensions.

"Wanted to say thanks, Bobby. That was mighty quick thinking, and we all owe you a big debt for coming up with it."

Leej nodded, dismissing the sentiment. "Ya do what ya gotta, if you can," he muttered philosophically. "Spaugh tells me we're casting off this evening, back to the Delta. He reckons the hurricane season is well over."

"Yeah, well, y'all have a real nice trip, Bobby. I won't be sailing with you."

"What?? What the hell. I thought I'd be able to take you for all that gold you took off the rubes on the trip out here! What you got in mind?"

"Well, I got me a date with the astronomy fellers over to Portsworth University, around the point. I get the feeling I need to learn a lot more than I know about the stars nearby here."

He clapped his old comrade on the shoulder, checked his derringers and his four-in-hand, and shifted the duffle bag onto his shoulder.

"But I promise I'll catch up with you, old friend. No mistake."

And Charles Stonewall Delacroix, Gambler, left the salon, the Albert Hansell and a lot more, and turned his footsteps toward the future.

Finis