"Oh!" said Robert, "I know there are enterprising Americans on the coast who will give me money for what I have to sell."
Fullalove was silent a minute, then he got a piece of wood and a knife, and said with an air of resignation, "I reckon we'll have to deal."
Need we say that to deal had been his eager desire from the first?
He now began to whittle a peg, and awaited the attack.
"What will you give me, sir?"
"What, money down? And you got nothing to sell but chances. Why, there's an old cuss about that knows where the island is as well as you do."
"Then of course you will treat with him," said Robert, sadly.
"Darned if I do," said the Yankee. "You are in trouble, and he is not, nor never will be till he dies, and then he'll get it hot, I calc'late. He is a thief and stole my harpoon: you are an honest man and brought it back. I reckon I'll deal with you and not with that old cuss; not by a jugful! But it must be on a percentage. You tell me the bearings of that there island, and I'll work it and pay five per cent on the gross."
"Would you mind throwing that piece of wood into the sea, Mr. Fullalove?" said Robert.
"Caen't be done, nohow. I caen't deal without whittlin'."