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The Red One by Jack London
page 75 of 140 (53%)
And I can pack quite a bit myself in between times, quite a bit,
yes, sir, quite a bit."

Big Bill and Anson were just beginning to nod their heads in
agreement, when Charles stopped them.

"What do you expect of us in return?" he demanded of the old man.

"Oh, I leave it up to the boys."

"That ain't business," Charles reprimanded sharply. "You made the
proposition. Now finish it."

"Well, it's this way--"

"You expect us to feed you all winter, eh?" Charles interrupted.

"No, siree, I don't. All I reckon is a passage to Klondike in your
boat would be mighty square of you."

"You haven't an ounce of grub, old man. You'll starve to death
when you get there."

"I've been feedin' some long time pretty successful," Old Tarwater
replied, a whimsical light in his eyes. "I'm seventy, and ain't
starved to death never yet."

"Will you sign a paper to the effect that you shift for yourself as
soon as you get to Dawson?" the business one demanded.

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