More he might have said, but at that instant they came upon a log lying across the road. Without the least hesitation they both took a header, then lay sprawling on the other side in the dew-wet dust.
They sat up, more pleased with themselves than damaged by the fall. 'Was it a cyclone, Alf?' asked Dave, blankly.
'Whist, Dave. Don't make a racket, or we'll have the police on us. They'll say we put that thing across the sidewalk. Disgraceful in a great big city like this, ain't it?'
Dave sympathised, then the Factor's note changed to anger. 'Goldam! I've split up my right boot and half smashed a toe. I shall go to a lawyer's office first thing, and sue the corporation of this darned city. Sticking obstacles on the sidewalk to smash the toes of honest citizens. Sha'n't be able to walk in Central Park to-morrow, now my boot's broken up.'
'Never mind, Alf. You can get boots half price from the Company. Nothing at all, if you cook the books.'
'Davey,' said the Factor, reproachfully. 'I couldn't do it. I'd like to cheat, but dern it, Davey, I can't. I'm too high-minded.'
For some time longer they talked from their respective dust heaps, while mosquitoes sang in the air, and frogs chirped in the grass around them. Then they climbed to their feet to continue aimless peregrinations.
'I know, Davey,' said the Factor, suddenly, as they came to a corner house. 'There's a nice little saloon right up here. Come on, and I'll drink your health, lad.'
'Isn't it next turning?' said the other, merely for sake of argument.
''Course not. That 'ud take us down to Broadway. Think I don't know my way about?'