“If we’re given, why shouldn’t we take?”
“That’s just the trouble. You struck a fool. But, thank Heaven, I’ve a little say in the matter. If you’re willing to work at regular rates then you may start in at once. If not, suit yourselves—I’ll find plenty of hands.”
“We know nothing about all this,” insisted the men. “Drabkin told us to come to work.”
“Just for that,” cried Chyenke in fury, “I’ll not take you even for nothing. Let Drabkin take you! I am the boss here!”
For a while the workingmen eyed her with scorn, a smile of contempt upon their lips, then they turned to the door.
“I tell you, boys,” groaned one of them in jest, “you take it from me; Drabkin has it far worse with this new boss of his than he ever had it with any of his old ones!”
Chyenke simply glared daggers at the speaker and was silent.
The workingmen had not proceeded far upon their way when they noticed Drabkin. At sight of them Drabkin’s heart fell. Quickly he disappeared through a gate.
“The fellow has given us the slip!”
“Do you know what? We ought to wait for him here and give his nose a good rubbing.”