"We won't work for him," came from two of the crowd.
The men walked out of the place in a body, Peterson and his friend with them. Dale and Owen turned back into the restaurant, and settled for the milk and pie. John Hoover followed them, his face full of anger.
"A nice trick you played me," he fumed. "Four first-class men, and I might have had them all but for you!"
"I guess we are square on that question of wages," came grimly from Owen.
"I'd rather have paid you the wages than had this happen!"
"No doubt; but it is too late now. After this, Uncle Jack, you had better treat folks as they should be treated—then perhaps you won't have any more trouble."
And with this parting shot Owen and Dale hurried from the restaurant, leaving John Hoover to think over what they had said, and wonder what he had best do next to get men to take the places of those who were leaving his employ from day to day.