“What do you think I ought to give?” asked the youth, who had thought a good deal over the question.
“I don’t know—but it seems to me that a thousand dollars should be the outside figure. What do you think, Baker?”
“Five hundred is my idea, but I wouldn’t think of goin’ above what you say.”
“Why,” said the surprised Herbert, “I had fixed five thousand as the limit, not knowing but that I might exceed that.”
“Don’t think of it.”
“Five thousand dollars,” repeated old Eph, with a low whistle, for the sum to him was a prodigious fortune.
“Well, Eph can figure as best he can, but I will agree that that sum shall be paid, if Rickard will take nothing less.”
“How are you goin’ to pay it? What are the tarms?” asked the trapper, who knew nothing about the forms of “exchange,” as it was proper to term the business in view.
“You can say to him that, if he will send Nick and his horse back to us unharmed, I will give him a draft on Mr. Lord in San Antonio for whatever sum you agree upon. He will understand that. I have the blanks with me, and can fill them in with pencil, which is as legal as ink. Then all he has to do is to hand the paper to Mr. Lord, who will give him the money without question. I will let him have another piece of writing which will insure that.”