"You'd think it was deep enough if you was diggin' in these rocks and drawin' only $5.00 for it," was the tart reply. "I told you I wouldn't dig but three feet for that money. 'Tain't like diggin' in nice, easy Nebrasky soil. Gimme $10 a grave an' I'll dig 'em regalation depth."
"Quit jawin' and take holt of this here box."
"Is he heavy?"
"Never heard of any of 'em comin' out of there fat. Slide the strap under your end."
"He's heavier than most," grunted the grave-digger. "He couldn't a been in there long."
Lutz laughed.
"They made a quick job of this one. Steady now—let her slide."
The grave-digger was sleepy and cross and careless. The strap slipped through his fingers and the box fell with a heavy thud. It fell upon its side and the lid came off.
"My God!" The grave-digger was staring into the hole with all his bulging eyes.
"You fool! You clumsy, blunderin' fool!"