"I owe it to you. Didn't O'Reilly rescue me from a dungeon?
Haven't you nursed me back to health? Don't I owe my life to you
both?"
"Nonsense! I, for one, sha'n't take a dollar of it," the girl
declared. "All I want to do is help dig. If you'll just promise to
let me do that--"
"I promise. And you shall have one-fourth of everything."
"No! No!"
"Oh, but you MUST. I insist. Nursing is a poorly paid profession.
Wouldn't you like to be rich?"
"Profession! Poorly paid?" Norine sputtered, angrily. "As if I'd
take pay!"
"As if I would accept a great service and forget it, like some
miserable beggar!" Esteban replied, stiffly.
O'Reilly laughed out. "Don't let's quarrel over the spoil until we
get it," said he. "That's the way with all treasure-hunters. They
invariably fall out and go to fighting. To avoid bloodshed, I'll
agree to sell my interest cheap, for cash. Come! What will you
bid? Start it low. Do I hear a dollar bid? A dollar! A dollar! A
dollar! My share of the famous Varona fortune going for a dollar!"
"There! He doesn't believe a word of it," Esteban said.
Norine gave an impatient shrug. "Some people wouldn't believe they
were alive unless they saw their breath on a looking-glass.
Goodness! How I hate a sneering skeptic, a wet blanket."
O'Reilly rose with one arm shielding his face.
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