Silence stretched, marked by Brindle's fidgeting and uncertain movements this way and that. Each time he made up his mind to go, the what if would tether him close and unwilling to quite give up the potential that the big roe represented. Even still, he didn't give up his sneer, youthful arrogance being one of the few things he had left to brandish against a world gone crazed.
At last, he said, real slow, "if. . .iff'n ye ain't heard none o' Galleon, then -- an' I ain't sayin' I believe ye, mate, so don't go thinkin' ye done pulled one over me none -- but if ye ain't heard o' Galleon, then who're ye workin' fer? Who's payin' ye, coin or other?"
At last, he said, real slow, "if. . .iff'n ye ain't heard none o' Galleon, then -- an' I ain't sayin' I believe ye, mate, so don't go thinkin' ye done pulled one over me none -- but if ye ain't heard o' Galleon, then who're ye workin' fer? Who's payin' ye, coin or other?"
