Monjoy spoke composedly, ignoring the irony.
“I wonder what Matthew would say if he heard my plan for finding it,” he said. “Phew! He’d call that madness!”
“Tell us, Arthur,” said Raikes.
“Not I! If I don’t find it, I’m fool enough already without that.”
Raikes and Eastwood were plainly engaged by the idea, and soon Eastwood ejaculated under his breath: “My God! the risk!”
At that Monjoy flung out his arms, displaying his vast chest.
“Risk?” he cried. “What can you risk more than you’re risking now—a white cap and the mortal push? You’ve risked that this dozen years; and for what? Clippings and scrapings and filings! You’ve risked Ouse Bridge for that! Now by ——, there are those in Back o’ th’ Mooin ready to call Arthur Monjoy king, but I’ll kick my shoes off at the end of a tow for the chance of being a king in truth!... Risk? Could an army rout us out o’ that wilderness? Who gets far over Wadsworth Scout without a ‘by-your-leave’? The country’s made for it!—To Pudsay and the ballad, Matthew!” He drank.
“To the gold they find i’ partridges’ heads and hares’ bellies,” quoth the merchant, rising. “Well, I suppose we go on the old way while Arthur’s looking for his silver? A new way o’ finding it, too; happen it’ll be a new sort o’ silver. We’ll have to wait for the plating-plant too, now. Ah, well!—The next meeting’s at the ‘Gooise’.... Nay, if we’re all stirring I’ll turn the lamps down; there’s no sense in wasting oil; we aren’t kings yet——”
He turned low the lamps that made on the ceiling the rings that intersected like the eyes of an owl.