A broad grin broke on the face of one of the players as he scraped back his chair and rose. "Cheese, Thumbscrew, where'd youse glom it?" he gasped ecstatically.
"Never mind w'ere I glommed it, Scully," was the retort. "De point is, are youse guys in on helpin' me lick up a growler?"
The other tramp had risen, and spoke for both as he strode toward the door. "Lead us to it, Thumbscrew," he swaggered portentously; "lead us to it, ol'-timer!" And the door slammed behind the three.
Hiram glanced back at the man behind the newspaper. He had not so much as slanted a look toward the door.
Hiram's chance had come. After a silent minute he essayed:
"But I didn't come to the city to leave it right away and go to drivin' mules. I came here to get a start."
The other politely lowered his paper. "What're you doin'—breakin' loose from home to make yer fortune?" he asked.
Hiram nodded and smiled.
The man surveyed him for the first time from head to foot. "Been a farmer up in Mendocino?" he queried.
"Sorta," Hiram admitted. Then in a low voice: "To tell the truth, this is my first time in a city. I got in last night. I've never been out o' Mendocino County but once before."