But Wild Water laid a restraining hand on the eager Shorty as he
explained. "I don't mean cooked. I want them with the shells on."

"So that you can carry 'em away?"

"That's the idea."

"But that ain't hospitality," Shorty objected. "It's--it's tradin'."

Smoke nodded concurrence. "That's different, Wild Water. I thought you
just wanted to eat them. You see, we went into this for a speculation."

The dangerous blue of Wild Water's eyes began to grow more dangerous.
"I'll pay you for them," he said sharply. "How much?"

"Oh, not a dozen," Smoke replied. "We couldn't sell a dozen. We're not
retailers; we're speculators. We can't break our own market. We've got
a hard and fast corner, and when we sell out it's the whole corner or
nothing."

"How many have you got, and how much do you want for them?"

"How many have we, Shorty?" Smoke inquired.

Shorty cleared his throat and performed mental arithmetic aloud. "Lemme
see. Nine hundred an' seventy-three minus nine, that leaves nine hundred
an' sixty-two. An' the whole shootin'-match, at ten a throw, will tote
up just about nine thousand six hundred an' twenty iron dollars. Of
course, Wild Water, we're playin' fair, an' it's money back for bad
ones, though they ain't none. That's one thing I never seen in the
Klondike--a bad egg. No man's fool enough to bring in a bad egg."

"That's fair," Smoke added. "Money back for the bad ones, Wild Water.
And there's our proposition--nine thousand six hundred and twenty
dollars for every egg in the Klondike."

"You might play them up to twenty a throw an' double your money," Shorty
suggested.

Wild Water shook his head sadly and helped himself to the beans. "That
would be too expensive, Shorty. I only want a few. I'll give you ten
dollars for a couple of dozen. I'll give you twenty--but I can't buy 'em
all."

"All or none," was Smoke's ultimatum.

"Look here, you two," Wild Water said in a burst of confidence. "I'll
be perfectly honest with you, an' don't let it go any further. You know
Miss Arral an' I was engaged. Well, she's broken everything off. You
know it. Everybody knows it. It's for her I want them eggs."

"Huh!" Shorty jeered. "It's clear an' plain why you want 'em with the
shells on. But I never thought it of you."

"Thought what?"

"It's low-down mean, that's what it is," Shorty rushed on, virtuously
indignant. "I wouldn't wonder somebody filled you full of lead for it,
an' you'd deserve it, too."