"It'll be dark before we get back to the boats," suggested Petrak, as we stood over the five sacks which were left.
"Mighty dark," said Thirkle gruffly, sitting cross-legged, counting a packet of English banknotes.
"That's what ye want, aint' it?" asked Petrak, who noticed that Thirkle was not so friendly as he had been.
"You keep to work and never mind so much talk," said Thirkle. "If ye stand there that way, it'll be morning before we get away."
"I'm workin', ain't I? Can't a man stop to breathe, himself, I'd like to know?"
Thirkle made no reply, but went on running his thumb over the ends of the notes. I stood and watched them, waiting for Petrak to stoop and take a sack.
"Yer goin' to play fair with me—ain't ye, Thirkle?" whined Petrak, a trace of fear crossing his face. "We're in together, share and share alike now—ain't we, Thirkle? I can ask that, can't I?"
"Ye'll get yer share, Reddy," said Thirkle, smiling.
"That's half—ain't it, Thirkle? Ye mind what I done for ye with Bucky, don't ye?"
"Aye, half of it, of course, Red. Reef that jaw of yours now, lad, and clap on. Don't stand there like a Jew and wrangle over the loot. Want to stop and count it now, lad?"