Bowman spoke. "You'll find it mighty hard to dispose of."
"Don't need to worry you."
"Suppose you could sell it for a fair price, cash, and get away with the
money?"
"That's our aim."
"Mr. Baines," said Bowman, "there's money in this if you aren't too
particular."
"Hain't p'tic'lar a-tall. How you mean?"
"What would you say to buying this gold--at a reasonable price? I can
dispose of it--through channels I am acquainted with. You can put in the
money we were going for, and I'll put in some more. Ought to show a
handsome profit."
"Might nigh double my money, maybe, eh? Figger that? Gimme twict as much
to buy stock with."
"Yes, indeed."
"Let's dicker."
"What will you men take to walk away and leave that gold?"
"Forty thousand."
"Fiddlesticks. I'll give you ten--and you're clear of the whole mess."
There was a wrangle. For half an hour the dicker went on, and finally a
price of fifteen thousand dollars was agreed upon. Mr. Bowman was to pay
over the money, and Scattergood was to contribute his five thousand
dollars as soon as they got it. For one third of the profits.
The money was paid over; the three robbers disappeared with alacrity,
leaving Scattergood and Bowman with the stolen gold.
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