Apparently neither Skinny nor Rafe cared to argue. At least they made no audible reply to the challenge.
Dan Slike nodded a satisfied head. "Now that's settled, let's go back to business. About that three thousand—yes or no?"
Skinny looked at Rafe. Rafe looked at Skinny. Skinny shook his head. Rafe nodded his. Dan Slike, missing nothing of the byplay, smiled delightedly. His thin lips curled into a crooked sneer.
"There seems to be a difference of opinion," said Dan Slike. "Give it a name."
"Three thousand is too much," averred Skinny Shindle.
"You'll only have to pay half of it," said Rafe.
"But this payment in advance—I don't like it," objected Skinny Shindle.
Dan Slike's boots came down from the table. They came down with a certain amount of speed, yet curiously enough they made not the slightest noise as soles and heels struck the floor. Dan Slike's chair creaked as his body turned ever so slightly sidewise.
"Shindle," said he softly, "you ain't thinking I wouldn't keep my part of the bargain if I take your money, are you?"
"No, oh, no," Skinny reassured him hastily. "Of course you would."