"I know—he stole him."
"I don't know anything about that. She paid for him fair and square—$50.00, and she's fond of the dog, and I want him."
"I'm sorry, for I can't part with him."
"You'd sell him, I guess?"
"No."
"If I put up enough?"
"No."
"Say, see here." He put his hand in his pocket. "I helped you out about that nigger of yours, and I want the dog. I'll give you $50.00 for the dog—more than he's worth—and that makes one hundred he's cost."
"He's not for sale—I won't sell him."
"Well, I'll make it a hundred." A hundred dollars! The money seemed a fortune to me; but I could not sell Dix.