“That takes him out of our land, onto the free range. All he’s got to do is stake his claim.”
“I know it. Let’s wait one more day.”
At the end of the day that followed, Percival again ate his dinner, pushed back his plate and dug into his right-hand trouser pocket, producing this time three nuggets.
“Getting better,” he said, and started toward the ladder, but this time Dog called to him.
“Of course a nugget now and then don’t really mean anything.”
“They’re good for money,” said Percival calmly. “After I get enough of them, I can trade them for three hundred dollars, and that’s what I need to get back to New York.”
Dog looked at Ducky, and Ducky at Dog. Dog spoke.
“That’s all you want, is it? Three hundred dollars?”
“That’s all.”
“Well—” Dog seemed to hesitate. “If that’s really all you want, maybe Ducky and I could scrape it up between us.”