"Nerf! Nerf!" Pierre danced from foot to foot, waving his arms. "Sacré plastron! You mek ze fuse light. You sit on him, heh? Bimeby, pretty soon, you got no nerf. You got noddings. You got one big gris-spot on ze rock. Da's hall." Pierre subsided, with a gesture of intense disgust.
Luna snapped his watch impatiently.
"It's my shift, Frenchy. I've got to go in a few minutes."
"Bien! Go!" Pierre spoke without spirit. "Mek of yourself one gran' folie. Mais, when ze shot go, an' you sail in ze air, don' come down on ze Blue Goose, on me, Pierre. I won't bin here, da's hall."
Luna turned.
"I tell you I've got to go now. I wish you'd tell me what's the matter with the old man."
Pierre roused himself.
"Noddings. Ze hol' man has noddings ze mattaire. It is you! You! Ze hol' man, he go roun' lak he kick by ze dev'. He mek his glass eyes to shine here an' twinkle zere, an' you mek ze gran' chuckle, 'He see noddings.' He see more in one look dan you pack in your tick head! I tol' you look hout; da's hall!"
Luna jammed his watch into his pocket and rose.
"It's all right, Frenchy. I'll give you another chance. To-day's Thursday. Saturday they'll clean up at the mill. It will be a big one. I want my rake-off. The boys want theirs. It all comes to the Blue Goose, one way or another. You think you're pretty smooth stuff. That's all right; but let me tell you one thing: if there's any procession heading for Cañon City, you'll be in it, too."