“Do you reckon that a fair share?” asked Wade, diplomatically.
The villain swore horribly.
“Why is it not?” he cried. “I am sure that you could get no better terms from any one. It will make you all rich enough.”
Wade feigned avarice.
“I think we ought to have half,” he said.
Poole uttered a frightful oath.
“Well, you will never get half!” he cried, “nor nobody else.” Then, after a moment’s thought: “Well, I’ll do a little better. I’ll give you one-fourth.”
Wade took a notebook from his pocket and wrote down all in serious fashion.
“Now,” he said, “for other terms. You are to show us the place, and we are to dive for the gold.”
Poole rubbed his hands.