"Then you take me up?" queried Deadoak eagerly.
"No."
"Wh—what! Ye said no?"
"Of course!" returned Sandy warmly, taking no heed of the thunderstruck look which had clouded Deadoak's staggered features. "Would we take advantage of ye that way? Not us! We're not that sort! We don't whine, Deadoak; we're not kids. We'll keep what we got, and make the best of it!"
Deadoak's countenance was a study in futility.
"You—d'ye mean——" he choked, then continued feebly. "Have ye found somethin'?"
"Maybe, we have!" Sandy beamed upon him. "Just between ourselves, friend, I'll tell ye that we have. So—ye see?" His wink was significant.
"I see," agreed Deadoak mournfully.
"'Twill make ye rejoice, no doubt," pursued Sandy, "to know that our luck was good. We appreciate your disinterested——"
"'Senough!" blurted Deadoak, turning. "I'll be weavin' back, I guess. So long."