“You think I'm your asset, eh?”
“You're not worth a cent to me or yourself until I operate. And when you're ready to have me operate—fifty-fifty—give me the high sign. And something will be done what was never done before!”
Then Wagg carried his stool to the lee of a shop wall, seeking shade—too far away for further talk.
CHAPTER XIX
AND PHARAOH'S HEART WAS HARDENED
By the wiles of Wagg and a soap diet Frank Vaniman had been able to secure his modest slice of God's sunlight.
There was aplenty of that sunshine in Egypt. It flooded the bare hills and the barren valleys; there were not trees enough to trig the sunlight's flood with effective barriers of shade.
Tasper Britt walked out into it from the door of Files's tavern.
He had just been talking to the landlord about the tavern diet. His language was vitriolic. Even Vaniman could not have used more bitter words to express his detestation for soap as a comestible.