“I won’t mind that if you don’t,” replied the mill-hand.
So the matter was settled. If Mr. Norton heard of it he did not say anything, and for the remainder of the evening things ran smoothly.
Before we retired I had learned many things that are not necessary to repeat here. Mr. Norton told of how he and my father had met in Chicago, how my father had begged of him to advance him money from time to time, and how the two had started together for South Dakota. He was a fluent talker, and I grew quite interested, though I did not exactly believe all that was told me.
We were all up early the next morning, and Ford and I prepared breakfast. Before eating, Mr. Norton applied himself again to the bottle, and asked the mill-hand if there was a good tavern at the Bend; to which Ford replied that there was a tavern, but whether good or bad he did not know, as he had never stopped there.
“Got any grinding to do?”
“Enough to keep us running till noon.”
“And after that?”
“We’ll have to wait for something to come in,” I replied.
“Then, Ford, we can get along without you,” continued Mr. Norton. “In the future Reuben and I will do all the work.”