“I’ve sent for him. He’ll be here in a minute,” and indeed, even as he spoke the words, Allan entered.
Hummel, thoroughly angry, looked Allan up and down with a single glance of the eye, and continued to stare at him impudently as he approached.
“What’s the trouble, Stanley?” Allan queried, for he had heard Hummel’s excited voice as he opened the door.
“Oh, I guess this feller has gone without booze about as long as he can stand it,” answered Stanley, with a wave of his hand toward the white-faced protestant. “He wants to go out an’ git some, I reckon.”
“That’s a lie!” shouted Hummel, waving his arms in the air. “All I want is my rights as a free American citizen. You can’t work no peonage racket on me. You can’t keep me a prisoner—”
“Nobody wants to,” broke in Allan. “Take your coat and hat and get out.”
“And I will come back—”
“No, you won’t—you’re fired. Get out.”
“When do I get my wages?”
“Next payday—in about three weeks.”