(Warms his hands over stove and glares ferociously at Miner.)
(Dave Harney enters from right, brushes snow from moccasins, and walks across to stove. He is tall and lean, has a loose-jointed, shambling gait, and listens interestedly to Clerk and Miner. He evinces a desire to speak, but his mustached mouth is so iced-up that he cannot open it. He bends over stove to thaw the ice.)
MINER
(To Clerk, with growing anger.)
It's all very well for your playing the high an' lofty, you sneakin' little counter-jumper. But we all know what your damned Company is up to. You're holdin' grub for a rise, that's what you're doin'. Famine prices is your game.
CLERK
Look at the shelves, man! Look at them!
MINER
How about the warehouses, eh? Stacked to the roof with grub!