"Don't pay him till he carries back the bureau!" said Sloan.
"You and your friend can do that!" said the landlord.
"If you don't catch hold of that bureau and take it back I'll wring your neck, you mean scoundrel!" said the miner sternly.
Zebulon Mack looked into the miner's face and thought it wisest to obey.
"Here, Finnegan!" he said sullenly. "Take hold, and don't be all night about it."
When the bureau was in place, Fred, who had changed the five-dollar bill, handed Mr. Mack the three dollars.
"Now, my friend," said the miner, "you can reckon up how much you made by your meanness. You and that understrapper of yours must enjoy moving bureaus. I only wish you'd got down the rest of the furniture, so that I might have the satisfaction of seeing you carry it back."
The landlord glared at Tom Sloan as if he would like to tear him to pieces. But he took it out in looks.
"Good night, sir," said the miner, "we don't care to have the pleasure of your company any longer."
"I'll be even with you for all this," growled Mack.