"Whether ye know'd, er whether ye didn't, it didn't make no difference—I win either way."
"What d'you mean?" Claw repeated.
"You know what I mean," sneered the Captain, truculently, "Secondhand goods—half price—see?"
"You mean I don't git my other five hundred?" yelled Claw jerking the revolver from his holster and levelling at the Captain's head, "Is that what ye mean?"
Surprised at the suddenness of the action, the Captain was caught off guard, and he stood blinking foolishly into the mouth of the gun: "Well," he faltered, moistening his lips with his tongue, "Mebbe we might kind o' talk it over."
"The only talkin' over you'll git out of me, is to come acrost with the five hundred," sneered Claw.
"Ye know damn well I ain't got no five hundred with me. Wait till we git to the Belva Lou."
"I'll wait, all right—but not till we git to the Belva Lou. Me an' the girl will wait on shore, in sight of the Belva Lou, while you go out an' git the money an' fetch it back—an' you'll come back alone with it. An' what's more—you ain't ahead nothin' on the rum, neither. 'Cause I'm goin' to slip
down to the Injun camp in about five minutes, an' the rum goes along. I'll be back by daylight, an' instead of the rum, I'll have all the fur—an' everything else them Dog Ribs has got. An' I'll git square with that damn squaw fer jerkin' that handful of whiskers out of me, too."
"That's all right, Johnnie," assured the Captain, still with his eyes on the black muzzle of the gun. "Take the rum along—only, we'd ort to split half an' half on that fur."