"You, who hates roistering, adventure, space, and hell-raising. Going
after Murdoch's Hoard! That, I want to see."
"So that you can laugh at my fumbling attempts?"
Tinker sobered. "I've been unkind, Cal. But you are not equipped to
make a search like that."
"No?"
"You, with your quiet disposition and easy-going ways. Yes, Cal, I can
be honest with you. Forgive me, but the idea of watching you conduct a
wild expedition like that intrigues me," Tinker became serious for a
moment. "Besides, I'd like to be there when you open Murdoch's Hoard."
"Hm-m-m. Well, it's just an idea."
"You'll get right back into your rut, Cal. You don't really intend to
do anything about it, do you?"
"Well--"
"Cal--would you give me the Key?"
"What!"
"I mean it."
"Tinker--what is Murdoch's Hoard?"
"Not unless you give me the Key," teased Tinker.
"Not a Chinaman's chance," said Cal with finality.
"What are you going to do with it?"
"I'm going after it myself!"
Tinker looked into Cal's face and saw determination there. "I want to
go along," she said. "Please?"
Cal shook his head. "Nope. I'm not going to have anyone laughing at me.
Tell me what it is."
"Take me along."
Cal thought that one over. The idea of having Tinker Elliott along
appealed to him. He'd wanted her for years, and this plea of hers was
an admission of surrender. But Cal felt that conditional surrender was
not good enough. He didn't like the idea of Tinker's willingness to be
bought for a treasure unknown. What was really in the depths of her
mind he could not guess--unless she were trying to goad him into making
the expedition.
"No," he said.
"Then you'll never go," she taunted him.
"I'll go," he snapped. "And I'll prove that I can take care of myself.
I hate space-roving, but I'm big enough to do it despite my distaste.
Now will you tell me what Murdoch's Hoard is that it is so valuable?"
"Not unless you take me along."
Pride is always cropping up in the wrong place. If Cal or Tinker had
not taken such a firm stand in the first place, it would have been
easier for either one of them to back down. The argument had started
in fun, and was now in deadly earnest. How and where the change came
Cal did not know. He reviewed the whole thing again. The first pair
were ignorant. Benj was vindictive enough to deprive his brother of
a useless thing that interested Cal. Dr. Lange was enigmatic. He had
neither personal view or ignorance to draw his desire for Murdoch's
worthless Hoard. Tinker Elliott might be goading Cal into making an
adventuresome trip for the purpose of bringing him closer to her way
of living. He wouldn't put it past her.
But the more he thought about it, the deeper and deeper he was falling
into his own bullheadedness. He was going to get Murdoch's Hoard
himself if it turned up to be a bale of one hundred dollar bills of the
twenty-first century--worth exactly three cents per hundred-weight for
scrap paper.
* * * * *
Tinker Elliott returned to the Association after the dinner with Cal.
She worked diligently for an hour, and loafed luxuriously for another
hour. It was just after this that Cal came into her laboratory and
grinned sheepishly at her.
"Now what?" she asked. "Changed your mind?"
"Uh-huh," he said.
"Still squeamish about space?"
He nodded.
"Poor Cal," she said, coming over to him. She curled up on his lap and
put her head on his shoulder. "What are we going to do about it?"
"I'm going to give you the Key," he said.