“When he left,” said Jim, a trifle grimly, “I thought of advising him to go to the dentist’s.”
He looked down at his bruised, abrased knuckles. Beam’s eyes followed his employer’s and the man grinned with sudden comprehension.
“It was him, eh?” he asked.
Jim nodded. “I won’t be down till afternoon.”
Beam walked on his way, chuckling. Presently he encountered Nels Nelson and recounted what he had learned, with certain amendments and surmises of his own, ending with a special word regarding Jim.
“Some boss,” he said, delightedly. “I’ve had a few bosses, but Sudden Jim he’s the boy for my money.” Which would have pleased Jim exceedingly had he overheard it.
Jim devoured the breakfast the widow had ready for him, and went off to bed. He went to sleep with the satisfying consciousness that it was now open warfare between him and Moran. What he had done last night was both a declaration of war and an eloquent expression of his opinion of the man. He knew Moran would be able to translate it correctly.
It was after one o’clock when Jim awoke, but he found the widow had kept his dinner warm for him.
“’S my experience,” she said, severely, “that folks gits more for their money sleepin’ nights than daytimes.”
“I was behaving myself, Mrs. Stickney. Honestly I was. At regular rates I earned two dollars watching in the mill.”