Mr. Rivers saw he had gone too far; “No,” he answered quickly, though sullenly, “we have said nothing about discharging you; you are too efficient a man for us to lose.”
“No, Houston,” added Mr. Blaisdell, “we wouldn’t think of discharging you, you’re too good a man.”
“No, I’m not too good a man,” replied Houston, facing them both with a look which they understood; “you don’t discharge me simply because,––you don’t dare to!” and he emphasized the last words with a heavy blow upon a rude desk standing near.
Blaisdell and Rivers exchanged glances, and for a moment were speechless. The former was the first to recover himself.
“Come, Houston,” he said, in a conciliatory tone, “we won’t have any more words; we all understand one another pretty well, and there’ll be no more complaints or trouble. You go on pretty much as you have done, and it will be all right. It’s time we were getting back now, but I’ll be out here next week with Barden, and we’ll fix things up satisfactory all ’round.”
“When will he get here?” asked Houston.
“The latter part of next week.”
Houston thought an instant, his party would be there the first or middle of the week.
“Very well,” he replied, “I tender my resignation now, to take effect when he comes.”
“Oh, no, Houston, no indeed, why, we couldn’t think of such a thing,” said Blaisdell, really alarmed, while Rivers maintained a sullen silence.