"Sure. Need the dough. But it wouldn't work. Couldn't get you into one o' them barrels."
"You wouldn't have to. All I ask is that you come along in the morning and seal me up in one. All you'll have to do is lock on the lid."
"How you know the barrels are going on the ship?"
"Never mind about that. I just know. I paid to find out."
"Okay—suppose you do get on the ship in a barrel. Maybe it'll be stored in a hold somewhere. Maybe they wouldn't open it very soon. You'd die."
"I got a way to get out. One of them special torches. The little ones. Aluminum isn't very strong. I can cut it like butter."
"It'd be hot. You'd burn yourself."
"Let me worry about that," Joe said fiercely. "You want the two grand or not?"
Nick wanted the two thousand and he was against the wall for excuses. Then he had a happy thought. "Barrels is air-tight. You'd smother. Thing's im—impracac'l. We'll forget it."
"I won't smother. I'm taking my own oxygen. Enough to last me clear to the Moon if it has to. Come on. Break down!"