said Thirkle. "It's wider at the top than at the
bottom, and the tops hang away. I looked into all that when I decided to
put it in here. There isn't as much water as ye think, Bucky; and it's
under foot what there is of it, and, the way we've got it stowed here,
one atop of the other, only the bottom one'll be very wet--and gold don't
rust."

"These guineas will be thick with scale, and ye'll need a chipping hammer
to clean 'em when ye have 'em outside again. Ye talk about folks bein'
suspicious of gold, but I say they're quicker to turn up their noses and
say things about gold that's been stowed in the wet and turned black."

"But gold don't rust, Bucky. That's sure--gold don't rust," said Petrak.

"That's all very well: but I mind when I dropped half a crown in a pool
back home, and in a fortnight it was thick as my hand. Think I'm a fool?
I know what I'm talkin' about, if ye don't. Go ahead and side with
Thirkle if ye like."

"That was silver, Bucky. Gold don't rust like that. I always knew gold
don't rust, and now Thirkle says it don't, and Thirkle knows, as he
always did. Mind we always asked Thirkle?"

"I'm not asking him any more if ye want to know, vote or no vote. My vote
is as good as Thirkle's, and it's good as yours; and ye can side with him
if ye want."

"But gold don't rust," said Petrak mockingly.

"Ye think I'm a fool?" shrieked Buckrow, turning on Petrak. He was
nearest the outside, and I could see his figure silhouetted against the
light at the entrance. He stooped down and put his face close to Petrak.

"Fool or not, gold don't rust, I'm telling ye Buck--"

"Then take that from a fool!" And Buckrow struck him square in the face
with his fist, hurling him back on my shoulders, so that I fell forward
on my hands.

"That's rotten mean, Bucky," I heard Petrak whining. "That's rotten mean
in here in the dark, Bucky."

"That _is_ rotten mean, Petrak," said Thirkle indignantly. "I wouldn't
stand for that if I were you."

"Oh, ye wouldn't, hey? Well, we'll see what ye stand for soon's ye come
out into the clear--that's what we'll see, Thirkle."

"It's rotten mean," whimpered Petrak. "I wouldn't do the likes o' that to
ye, Bucky; not if ye never agreed along with me--it's rotten mean."

"Ye'll get worse as that is. Now, does gold rust, ye little runt? Say it!
Does gold rust?"

"That's hardly fair, Bucky," said Thirkle. "That's hardly fair on the
little chap after he's stood by ye so long."