"Look here, Lem, use a little sense. Now what's the use spendin' County money on these paupers from God knows where? That's a good blanket."
"Oh, yes, that's a peach of a blanket. Kind of a shame to waste such a good blanket, ain't it? Why don't you take it off him? He'll never tell. But say, are you sure the County don't pay for that suit of clothes and coffin and six feet of diggin' he didn't git?"
"Are you goin' to lend a hand here or not?"
"Not." The grave-digger picked up his shovel and started off looking like a gnome in the moonlight under his high-crowned Stetson.
"Come back here! Don't be a fool."
"I'm not the man you're lookin' for," he replied stubbornly.
The undertaker started after him and laid a hand roughly upon his arm.
"See here, Lem, you goin' to blab this all over town?"
Remembering the graves he had dug for $5.00, the grave-digger began to enjoy Lutz's anxiety.
"Can't tell what I'll do when I get a few drinks in me."