Just as he had arrived at this sensible conclusion his companion came to a halt.
"Here's my shanty; where's yours?" he asked.
"Haven't got any!"
"I'd ask you in if we wasn't packin' up to go."
"Does your wife go with you?"
"Why, nat'rally!"
"Say," Wakefield queried, as the man turned in at the gate. "How did you go to work to get that job up in the cañon?"
"Went to 'Bijah Lang, the street-commissioner."
"You haven't got any friend who would like you to pass the job over to him?"
"No."