“What do you want?”
“Come about the big block at the corner. Time it was blasted down.”
“Then blast it down; and how many more times am I to tell you to say sir to me?”
“You’re my master, and pay me my wage, and I earn it honest. That’s all there is between us, for the Lord made all men equal, and—”
“Look here, Isaac Woodham, once for all I will not have any of your Little Bethel cant in my presence. Now about this block; let it be deeply tamped, and the powder put well home.”
“I’m going to blast it down with dinnymite.”
The elder man flushed up scarlet, and the veins in his forehead swelled up into knotted network.
“Once for all—” he thundered.
“There, don’t get in a way, master,” said the man coolly. “If you go on like that you’ll be having another fit, and I’m sure you oughtn’t to cut short such a life as yours.”
“Isaac Woodham, one of these days you’ll tempt me to knock you down. Insolent brute! And now, look here; I’ve told you before that I would not have dynamite used in my quarry. I’ll have my work done as it always has been done—with powder. The first man who uses a charge of that cursed stuff I’ll discharge.”