"Hello—what?" he asked, with an air of quiet curiosity.
"I said, Hello, grafter," Green repeated, with bravado.
"Why?"
"I guess you know that as well as I do."
"I don't. What is it? Out with it. Fire away."
His tranquil air of strength had its effect in overawing the little man, though the latter stood firm and began to explain.
"A grafter is a fellow with an underground pull for getting hold of what belongs to some one else. At least that's what I understand by it—"
"It's very much what I understand by it, too. But have I ever got hold of anything of yours?"
"Yes, confound you! You've taken my job—the job I've waited for ever since 1885."
"Did waiting for it make it yours? If so, you would have come by it more easily than I did. I worked for it."