"Not him. He's too poor to make it worth while," Dunsmuir asserted.
"Don't chuck your confounded money in our poverty-stricken faces," Kellett adjured. "I like the description of Molyneux. It's dead right."
"Well, no one ever sues for libel unless there's money in it," persisted Dunsmuir. "Yes, he sure has. That bit about kicking a man when he's down and his hands tied is just it. And every time he kicks the Chief he kicks us, too."
"Let him kick," Kellett said. "The Chief's too big to care."
"Ho, is he?" questioned York. "Think he's not got feelin's, like the rest o' us?"
"Have you feelings, insect?"
"Damn right. Keep off 'em. 'Course we can't do nothin', so he goes on. But, by Gor, a touch o' tar an' feathers from the boys...."
"Stow it," said Kellett. "You're the sort that would give him a real handle to work on. Let him talk."
"I guess the Marquis was a better man than you are, York," said Dunsmuir.
"You do, eh? Well, I guess so. Still, I've done my job when it's been given me."