We'll try and get back, but it ain't no manner of use.
Anything we want to take along with us from the mule?
We can----" Suddenly he paused.

In an instant the eyes of the two doomed men had met as the same thought simultaneously rose in their minds.

The canvas sack with its five thousand dollars was still tied to the horn of the saddle.
Marcus had emptied his revolver at the mule, and though he still wore his cartridge belt, he was for the moment as unarmed as McTeague.
"I guess," began McTeague coming forward a step, "I guess, even if we are done for, I'll take--some of my truck along." "Hold on," exclaimed Marcus, with rising aggressiveness.

"Let's talk about that.

I ain't so sure about who that--who that money belongs to." "Well, I AM, you see," growled the dentist.
The old enmity between the two men, their ancient hate, was flaming up again.
"Don't try an' load that gun either," cried McTeague, fixing Marcus with his little eyes.
"Then don't lay your finger on that sack," shouted the other.