u'll die. Now look here: it's just foolery to let this
Dog-in-the-Manger Company hold the stage any longer. Let's recast it,
and play 'The Partners.' Come, what do you say? It's only a three-part
piece, and there's a thumping good treasury to draw upon."

"Three parts!" shrieked Weems, lifting up his pistol on to his elbow
again, where it gleamed like a dancing mirror in the hot sunshine. Then
as another thought struck him, he lowered the weapon to his side once
more, and broke out into the ghost of a smile. "Oh, I see. Yes, of
course. Two for me, Mr. Cospatric, and one for you. That's much more
right and proper."

I chuckled, and mentioned that one Haigh and myself were going shares
over this matter, and that I didn't intend to see Haigh defrauded; and
then the battle of words began over again.

By this time I was so thoroughly sick of the brute's meanness that I
made up my mind stubbornly not to give way a single peg. He argued, he
prayed, he commanded, he threatened; he appealed to all my better
feelings individually and then collectively; but it was no good. All
that he could get out of me was an assurance that he might feel himself
very lucky if he fingered the proffered third, and a threat that if he
didn't accept it quickly he'd find himself empty-fingered
altogether--and probably minus a sound vertebral column into the
bargain. And in the end he sobbed out an agreement to the terms, and
then flopped down amongst the bushes, deadly sick.

This last development I was not altogether unprepared for, and, had it
seemed good to me to do so, I might have taken advantage of his plight
to grab the nickel-plated weapon and repudiate the treaty--as he most
assuredly would have done by me had the positions been reversed. But
over-reaching that kind--euphemistically termed "keen business
instinct" by some--has never been among my catalogue of acquirements
(more's the pity), and so I just hung round till he had disburdened his
stomach and recollected his wits a bit, forbearing to interfere either
by word or deed.

"It's the heat," he explained at last.

"We'll log it down as such," said I, to prevent argument, "and for
God's sake don't let us squabble any more. If you're right again, we
may as well turn-to and get at the _cache_ without further
dawdling. You have a spade, I suppose?"

"A spade! Oh dear, oh dear! what an oversight. If you'll believe me,
Mr. Cospatric, I never remembered that digging implements would be