“Look here, Halstead, you don’t want to be foolish,” remonstrated the red-haired one. “I’m willing enough to let your friend into this matter, and I’ll make it highly profitable for you both. But don’t get too stiff about it. I’m only making a very handsome offer to buy some of your interest and time.”
“Oh,” smiled Halstead, quizzically. “Pardon me. I thought you were trying to buy my soul.”
The irony, however, was wasted on the other. “Well, now you understand that I’m not,” laughed Rexford, easily. “So we can begin to talk real business. Let us begin by dropping this money into your pocket.”
He attempted to slip the roll of banknotes into one of the boy’s coat pockets, but Halstead quickly side-stepped, receiving the proffered money in his right hand.
“Oh, very well,” laughed Rexford, “do just as you please with the money. It’s yours, you know.”
“Thank you,” acknowledged the young skipper. Then, before Rexford could even guess what he meant to do, Tom Halstead swung back his right arm, bringing his hand up over his shoulder.
“Here, stop that!” quivered Rexford, darting forward and clutching the young skipper’s arm. But the move was too late, for Captain Tom had already hurled the compact little mass of banknotes as far as he could through the forest. On account of Rexford’s sudden movement neither of them heard the money drop to earth.
“What do you mean by that?” demanded the red-haired one, hoarsely, his breath coming fast, his eyes gleaming angrily.
“You told me to do as I pleased with the money,” retorted Tom. “So I got it out of my hands as quickly as possible. I don’t like that kind of money.”
“Do you mean to say that you throw our business over?” cried Rexford.