"Come, come, gentlemen, I say; this isn't business," said Marks.
"There's different ways, you know, of looking at all subjects. Mr. Haley
is a very nice man, no doubt, and has his own conscience; and, Tom, you
have your ways, and very good ones, too, Tom; but quarrelling, you know,
won't answer no kind of purpose. Let's go to business. Now, Mr. Haley,
what is it?--you want us to undertake to catch this yer gal?"

"The gal's no matter of mine,--she's Shelby's; it's only the boy. I was
a fool for buying the monkey!"

"You're generally a fool!" said Tom, gruffly.

"Come, now, Loker, none of your huffs," said Marks, licking his lips;
"you see, Mr. Haley 's a puttin' us in a way of a good job, I reckon;
just hold still--these yer arrangements is my forte. This yer gal, Mr.
Haley, how is she? what is she?"

"Wal! white and handsome--well brought up. I'd a gin Shelby eight
hundred or a thousand, and then made well on her."

"White and handsome--well brought up!" said Marks, his sharp eyes,
nose and mouth, all alive with enterprise. "Look here, now, Loker, a
beautiful opening. We'll do a business here on our own account;--we does
the catchin'; the boy, of course, goes to Mr. Haley,--we takes the gal
to Orleans to speculate on. An't it beautiful?"

Tom, whose great heavy mouth had stood ajar during this communication,
now suddenly snapped it together, as a big dog closes on a piece of
meat, and seemed to be digesting the idea at his leisure.