"That door there?" he asked innocently. "That big, wide door leadin' right outside into all that fresh air? You don't mean that one?"
"That's the one," Farwell returned angrily.
"Well, well, well!" said McHale, in mock wonder. "You don't say? And it looks just like a common, ordinary door, too. Do you reckon you got time right now to show me how it works?"
"Quit it, Tom," said Casey. "Farwell, I want to get right down to case cards. This is a raw deal. I ask you not to take water that you can't use."
"Not to mince matters with you, Dunne," Farwell returned, "I may as well say that we intend to take as much as we like and when we like. There's plenty of water left in the river. It's merely a question of building your dams to catch it."
"Will you say that there will be plenty when your big dam is finished?"
Farwell lifted his big shoulders in a shrug which coupled utter indifference with an implication that the future was in the hands of Providence.
"Good Lord, Dunne, there's no use talking about that!" said he. "We will take what water we want. You get what is left. Is that plain?"
"Yes," said Casey quietly. "I won't bother you any more."
"But I will," said McHale. "I'll just bother you to make good that bluff of yours about firin' me out of here. Why, you durn, low-flung——"