He came forward promptly in his chair, slapped his palm on the waiting pack of cards, and cut for the deal while Vaniman was throwing off his coat.
“Judging by signs, as I came past Britt's shop, The Hornet is getting ready to buzz again,” said the cashier.
“Aye! I reckoned as much. I have looked across there from time to time to-day and have seen customers knocking in vain on the door. It's your deal, boy!”
Vaniman shuffled obediently.
“And there was a run-in this morning between your boss and his brother,” observed the Squire, scratching a match. “And Eli, here, called my attention to the fact that two sun dogs, strangers to him, were chasing along with the sun all the forenoon. Signs of trouble, boy—sure signs!” He sorted his cards. It was more of the Squire's regular line of humor to ascribe to Eli various sorts of comment and counsel.
“How crazy do you think Prophet Elias is?” inquired the young man, avoiding further reference to his employer.
“After listening many times to the testimony of expert alienists in court trials I have come to the conclusion that all the folks in the world are crazy, son, or else nobody is ever crazy. I don't think I'll express any opinion on the Prophet. I might find myself qualifying as an alienist expert. I'd hate to!”
After that mild rebuff Vaniman gave all his mind to the game—for when the Squire played euchre he wanted to attend strictly to the business in hand. And in the span of time between dusk and supper the two were rarely interrupted.
But on this afternoon they were out of luck.
Men came tramping up the screaking outside stairs that conducted to the office; the Squire had a room over Ward's general store.