"As many devils sooner!" said Droop, indignantly. "I'll take my pigs to another market."
He rose and beckoned to the drawer.
"Nay, then, why so choleric!" pleaded the knight, leaning anxiously across the table. "What terms do ye offer, Master Droop? Come, man, give a show of reason now—name your terms."
It was to this point that Copernicus had counted upon bringing the helpless knight, who was far from a match for a Yankee. He had driven his own bargain with Bacon, and he now resolved that Bacon's friend should fare no better. In pursuit of this plan, he moved from his seat with a sour face.
"I don't feel much like takin' up with a man who tries to do me," he grumbled, shaking his head and beckoning again to the drawer.
"Do thee, man—do thee!" cried the knight. "Why, an I do thee good, what cause for grief?" Spreading forth his two fat hands, he continued: "Spake I not fairly? An my offer be not to thy taste—say thine own say. What the devil, man; must we quarrel perforce?"
Droop scratched his head and seemed to hesitate. Finally he slapped the table with his open hand and cried with a burst of generosity:
"I'll tell ye what I will do. I've got two quart bottles of that same ripe whiskey, and I'll give 'em both to ye the day the Queen gives me my patents!"
"Nay—nay!" said the knight, straightening himself with dignity. "'Twere a mere fool's prank at such terms!"