"Matter of business," replied the trader carelessly. "He was on the spot."
"Well, you can get plenty more now. Why not fire him?"
Mahooley looked a little embarrassed.
"Business is business," he said. "I don't fancy him myself, but he's working all right."
Joe's perceptions were sharpened by hate. He saw Mahooley's hesitation, and began speculating on what reason the trader could have for not wanting to discharge Sam. He scented a mystery. Casting back in his mind, he began to fit a number of little things together.
Once, he remembered, somebody had told Mahooley one of the black horses had gone lame, and Mahooley had replied unthinkingly that it was not his concern. Why had he said that? Was somebody besides Mahooley backing Sam? If he could explode the mystery, maybe it would give him a handle against his rival.
"Well, I shouldn't think you'd let an ex-cook put it all over you," remarked the stranger.
This was too much for Joe's self-control. A dull, bricky flush crept under his skin.
"Put it over nothing!" he growled. "You come over to Bela's to-night if you want to see how I handle a cook!"
"Who is the old guy camped beside Bela's shack?" asked the stranger.