“Ther’ ain’t no option fer you, Marbolt,” Jake was saying. “You’ve never given me an option, and I’m not goin’ to be such a blazing fool as to give you one. God A’mighty, Marbolt, ther’ never was a man treated as I’ve been by you. We’ve been together fer donkey’s years, I guess. ’Way back in them old days, when we was mates, before you was blind, before you was cranked against ’most everybody, when we scrapped agin them black-backs in the Indies side by side, when we quarreled an’ made friends again, I liked you, Marbolt, an’ I worked honest by you. There wa’n’t nothin’ mean to you, then, ’cep’ in handin’ out dollars. I hadn’t no kick comin’ those days. I worked fer so much, an’ I see I got it. I didn’t ask no more, an’ I guess I didn’t want. That’s all right. Then you got blind an’ you changed round. That’s where the rub come. I was no better than the rest to you. You fergot everything that had gone. You fergot I was a square dealin’ man by you, an’ since that time I’ve been dirt under your feet. Pshaw! it ain’t no use in talkin’; you know these things just as well as I do. But you might have given me a show. You might have treated me ‘white.’ It was to your interest. I’d have stayed by you. I’d have done good by you. An’ I’d have been real sorry when you died. But I ain’t no use fer that sort o’ thing now. What I want I’m goin’ to have, an’ you’ve got to give—see? It ain’t a question of ‘by-your-leave’ now. I say right here I want your gal.”
The man paused. But Marbolt remained undisturbed. He still beat an idle tattoo on the table, only his hand had drawn nearer to the lamp and the steady rapping of his fingers was a shade louder, as though more nervous force were unconsciously finding outlet in the movement.
“So you want my girl,” he said, his lips scarcely parting to let the tone of his voice pass.
“Ay,” Jake said emphatically, “I want that gal as I took out o’ the water once. You remember. You said she’d fell overboard, after I’d hauled her back on to the ship out o’ reach o’ the sharks. That’s what you said—after.”
He paused significantly. If he had expected any display from his hearer he must have been disappointed. The other remained quite still except for those moving fingers tapping their way nearer and nearer the lamp.
“Go on.”
“Wal, I’ve told you how I stand, an’ I’ve told you how you stand,” Jake proceeded, with his voice ever so little raised. He felt that the other was too easy. And, in his unimaginative way, he thought he had spoken too gently. “An’ I say again I want that gal fer my wife. Time was when you would have been glad to be quit of her, ’bout the time she fell overboard. Being ready to part then, why not now? I’m goin’ to get her,—an’ what do I pay in return? You know. You’ll go on ranchin’ in peace. I’ll even stay your foreman if you so want. I’ll shut right down on the business we both know of, an’ you won’t have nothin’ to fear. It’s a fair an’ square deal.”
“A fair and square deal; most generous.”
Even Jake detected the sarcasm, and his anger rose at once. But he gave no heed to those fingers which had now transferred their attention to the brass body of the lamp.