The Tinker and the Sandman coughed slightly, to intimate their entire concurrence in Mr. Ginger's remark.
"As I said to you this mornin', Mr. Thorneycroft," pursued Ginger, "this is a difficult and a dangerous bus'ness, and there's no knowin' wot may come on it. But it's your only chance o' recoverin' your darter."
"Yes, it's your only chance," echoed the Tinker.
"Ve're about to risk our precious lives for you, sir," said the Sandman; "so, in coorse, ve expects a perportionate revard."
"If you enable me to regain my daughter, you shall not find me ungrateful," rejoined the iron-merchant.
"I must have a hundred pounds," said the Tinker—"that's my lowest."
"And mine, too," said the Sandman.
"I shall take nuffin' but the glory, as I said afore," remarked Ginger. "I'm sworn champion o' poor distressed young damsils; but my friends must make their own bargins."
"Well, I assent," returned Mr. Thorneycroft; "and the sooner we set out the better."
"Are you armed?" asked Ginger.