"Of course."
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"They would float."
"No matter, the sharks below would soon take care of the few that floated."
"Are we agreed," cried Fleon, "for halves?"
The other made some grumbling rejoinder, but grumbling he closed with the proposition.
"Very good, very good," said Fleon, rubbing his hands. "Now let us cast them up."
"One, two, four, six, eight, eleven, thirteen," said Barthes.
Now they were standing so close to the pile of sacks that the boys in their novel place of concealment could not only hear every word, but they actually felt the speakers brushing against them.