"Good Lord, 'Tony," cried Shaw in a low voice. "That's fair enough; we've got a right to something, ain't we? Don't let a good thing fall through just because you want th' whole earth. Better have a little than none."
"Well, gimme a third, then."
"I'll give you a slug in th' eye, you hog!" promised Hall, starting to rise again, but Shaw held him back. "Sit down, you fool!" he ordered, angrily. Then he turned to the Mexican. "Third don't go; take my offer or leave it."
"Gimme a fourth; that's fair enough."
Shaw thought for a moment and then looked up. "Well, that's more like it. What do you say, fellers?"
"No!" cried Hall. "Two-ninths, or nothin'!"
"A fourth is two-eighths, only a little more," Shaw replied.
"Well, all right," muttered Hall, sullenly.
"That ees ver' good," laughed Benito, glad that things were clearing. All his sympathies were with his countryman, but he hesitated to take his part in the face of such odds.
The others gave their consent to the division and Shaw smiled. "Well, that's more like it. Now we'll go into this thing an' sift it out. Keep mum about it—there's twenty men in town that would want to join us if they knowed."