And so it followed that on the morning after his unsuccessful negotiation with Captain Nat, Dan Ogle found himself face to face with Henry Viney at that self-same spot on the bank-side where he had talked with Blind George. Dan was surly; first because it was policy to say little, and to seem intractable, and again because, after the night's adventure, it came natural. "So you're Viney, are you?" he said. "Well, I ain't afraid o' you. I know about you. Blind George told me _your_ game." "Who said anything about afraid?" Viney protested, the eternal grin twitching nervously in his yellow cheeks. "We needn't talk about being afraid. It seems to me we can work together." "O, does it? How?" "Well, you know, you can't change 'em." "What?" "O, damn it, you know what I mean. The money--the notes." "O, that's what you mean, is it? Well, s'pose I can't?" "Well--of course--if you can't--eh? If you can't, they might be so much rags, eh?" "P'raps they might--_if_ I can't." "But you know you can't," retorted the other, with a spasm of apprehension. "Else you'd have done it and--and got farther off." "Well, p'raps I might. But that ain't all you come to say. Go on." Viney thoughtfully scratched his lank cheek, peering sharply into Dan's face. "Things bein' what they are," he said, reflectively, "they're no more good to you than rags; not so much." "All right. S'pose they ain't; you don't think I'm a-goin' to make you a present of 'em, do you?" "Why no, I didn't think that. I'll pay--reasonable. But you must remember that they're no good to you at all--not worth rag price; so whatever you got 'ud be clear profit." "Then how much clear profit will you give me?" Viney's forefinger paused on his cheek, and his gaze, which had sunk to Dan Ogle's waistcoat, shot sharply again at his eyes. "Ten pounds," said Viney. Dan chuckled, partly at the absurdity of the offer, partly because this bargaining for the unproducible began to amuse him. "Ten pound clear profit for me," he said, "an' eight hundred pound clear profit for you. That's your idea of a fair bit o' trade!" "But it was mine first, and--and it's no good to you--you say so yourself!" "No; nor no good to you neither--'cause why? You ain't got it!" Dan's chuckle became a grin. "If you'd ha' said a hundred, now----" "What?" "Why, then I'd ha' said four hundred. That's what I'd ha' said!" "Four hundred? Why, you're mad! Besides I haven't got it--I've got nothing till I can change the notes; only the ten." Dan saw the chance he had hoped for. "I'll make it dirt cheap," he said, "first an' last, no less an' no more. Will you give me fifty down for 'em when you've got 'em changed?" "Yes, I will." Viney's voice was almost too eager. "Straight? No tricks, eh?" Viney was indignant at the suggestion. He scorned a trick. "No hoppin' the twig with the whole lot, an' leavin' me in the cart?" Viney was deeply hurt. He had never dreamed of such a thing.