“Why, to get the stuff, if it’s there—what else? He’s our only chance of doing the thing proper.”
“What’s he askin’?” said Jude.
“You mean terms?”
“Yep.”
“Well, it’s this way: He’ll have to do the wreckin’ business, and then if the stuff’s got he’ll have to run it ashore, and after that he’ll have to get rid of it. I’m givin’ him two dollars out of every three.”
“Oh, Lord!” said Jude.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Why didn’t you give him the lot?”
“Now look you here!” cried Satan. “I don’t want no sass! Who’s runnin’ this show, you or me? How do you know what I’ve got up my sleeve? Have you ever known me done on a deal yet? Now you take my orders where Cark’s concerned and take them smart, with no questions! If you don’t—well, then, trade with him yourself, take charge of the Sarah and run her yourself! Lippin’ your betters!”
Jude took off her old hat and looked into it as if for inspiration; then she clapped it on her head again, drew up both feet, clasped her arms round her knees, and sat on the keg-top speechless and brooding, her eyes fixed on the Juan.