"I don't know about that," remarked Luna. "The way I size it up, that's about all that's coming my way. It's kick or nothing."
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," called Morrison.
The door swung open, and the mine foreman entered.
"Why, howdy, Jim? You're just the fellow we've been waiting for. How's things at the mine?"
"Damned if I know!" replied Jim, tossing his hat on the floor. "The old man's in the mix-up, so I don't know how much I'm supposed to know."
"What are you supposed to know?" Morrison was asking leading questions.
"Well, for one thing, I'm supposed to know when a man's doing a day's work."
"Well, don't you?"
"Not according to the old man. He snoops around and tells me that this fellow's shirking, and to push him up; that that fellow's not timbering right, doesn't know his business, that I'd better fire him; that the gang driving on Four are soldiering, that I'd better contract it."