"Then, Adam Penfeather, I'm your debtor."
"Nay," says he, "there be no debts 'twixt comrades o' the Brotherhood, 'tis give and take, share and share!" And speaking, he drew forth a purse and emptying store of money on the grass betwixt us, divided it equally and pushed a pile of silver and copper towards me.
"And what's this?" I demanded.
"Share and share, comrade!"
"But I'm no comrade o' yours till after to-night."
"Aha!" says he, pinching his long chin. "Is't more vengeance then?"
"Keep your money till it be earned!" I muttered.
"Sink me—and there's pride for ye!" says he. "Pride which is a vain thing and vengeance which is a vainer. Lord love me, shipmate, 'tis plain to see you're o' the quality, 'spite your rags—blue blood, high-breeding, noblesse oblige and all the rest on't."
"Stint your gab!" says I, scowling.
"'Tis writ large all over ye," he went on placidly enough. "As for me, I'm but a plain man wi' no time for vengeance and no whit o' pride about me anywhere. What I says to you is, get to wind'ard o' vengeance—nay, heave it overboard, shipmate, and you'll ride the easier, aye and sweeter, and seek something more useful—gold, for instance, 'tis a handy thing, I've heard say—so ha' done wi' vengeance!"