Frischette gave vent to a shriek of anguish.
“Two-thirds,” he howled. “What? Are you crazy? I will not leesen to zat. Et ees outrageous, m’sieur.”
Sandy poked Dick cautiously in the ribs.
“Both mad!” he announced. “Can you make anything out of that gibberish? What are they talking about?”
“I’ll confess,” Dick whispered, “that I’m at a loss to know.”
In the end, the two conspirators came to an agreement
“One-half it shall be,” they heard the old man mutter.
Having won his point, Frischette beamed. He thrust the box into the other’s hands.
“Take et, m’sieur. I am sorry ef I speak cross. We must be friends. We must understand each other. En a ver’ few weeks we go to Edmonton an’ we shall be rich, m’sieur.”
Creel grumbled something through his beard, seized the box with eager hands and half-turned as if to depart.