"Women ain't no good, nohow! They don't love no men, and men don't love
them. What's the good of havin' 'em round to feed and to bother a feller
'bout drinkin' an' things? Less a man sees of 'em the better!"

The third man, Silent Lon Cronk, sunk lower at his work, even more
fiercely flattening the gemless rings under the pressers. After a few
moments he laid down his tools and began to stretch his long legs,
scraping into a cup the bits of gold from his lap.

"I've been goin' to ask ye fellers somethin' for a long time. Might as
well now as any other night, eh?"

"Yep," replied Eli eagerly.

"'Tain't nothin' that will take any money out yer pockets; 'twill put it
in, more likely. We've been stealin' together for how long, Lem? How
long we been pals?"

"Nigh onto ten years, I'm thinkin'. It were that year that Tilly
Jacobson got burned, weren't it?"

"Yep, for ten years," replied Lon, ignoring Lem's last query, "and we've
allers been hones' with each other. I've been hones' with both of ye,
and ye've been hones' with me. Eh?"

"Yep."

"Lem, do ye want all the swag in this here room, only a sharin' up with
Eli, without havin' to share and share alike with me?"