From the distance came the inarticulate baying of men.
“How much?” reiterated Tsang wearily.
“Do you hear him ask how much?” cried one turning surprisedly to the others.
“How strange!” they commented.
“It was eight mace, but having a knowledge of benevolence, we have reduced it to seven mace three candareens,” added the first speaker.
“Do you think I am a fool or a hill-man?” demanded Tsang with scorn.
“How will you go to the Gardens?” they chorused derisively.
“We will not go,” he answered, moving back from the bank.
“I will be benevolent,” cried one, suddenly moving his boat past the others, “and take you for six mace, four——”
“Six mace, three candareens.”