There were others present who were still unconvinced.
"Anything further, Mr. Dollard?" asked Thayor sharply.
"About this 'ere grub," returned the spokesman; "it ain't fit, I tell ye, for a dog."
"It will be fit enough by to-morrow night," answered Thayor. "I have attended to that by telegraph." There was a slight murmur of approval.
"See here, Mr. Thayor," resumed Dollard, gaining courage over the promise of good food. "Maybe the food'll git so's we kin git along, but you hain't been treatin' us no whiter 'n you're a mind to. We ain't gittin' paid no more'n keep us out the poor-house."
"I goll, you're right, Shank Dollard," came from somewhere in the back row.
"Ah!" exclaimed Thayor, "I was waiting for that. Where, may I ask, have you received as high wages as I have paid you? Not even on a river drive," he went on coolly—"dangerous work like that, I know, commands a just reward."
"When we was to work for Morrison," interrupted a round-shouldered lumber jack, "we—"
"You need not enlighten me with figures," resumed Thayor; "I have them here," and he turned to a yellow pad. "When, I say, have you been paid as much and as steadily?"
"That may be, but we ain't as satisfied over what we git as you be," retorted Shank Dollard.