Bill dropped his persuasive tone as he wheeled around on the men and in a sudden blaze said:
"Well, you know Carston and you know me. If you're lookin' for trouble, we won't see you go away disappointed." He squared his shoulders as he spoke. "Oh, shucks!" He looked at the boys again. "It's no use," he began, more good-naturedly. "It's the business that's no good. Nothin' in it. The packers has got us skinned to death. They pay us what they like for cattle, and charge the public what they like for beef. Hell!" he grunted, as he turned on his heel. "I'm goin' into the ministry."
This time Grouchy's "Well, I want mine" was extremely faint.
Before the others could speak again Bill quickly called, "Here's the boss now," and signalled the men to be silent.
They were touched by Jim's haggard face. They had not seen the boss for several days; he had been busy with accounts, Bill had told them. They began shuffling their feet as though about to leave. Each one thought perhaps it would be as well to wait until the next day. Shorty signalled them to come on, but Jim stopped them.
"Boys, I hear you're getting anxious about your pay. I don't blame you. My affairs are in a bad way, but I don't expect any one to share my bad luck. You've earned your money. I'll see that you get it."
As Jim spoke he drew from his pocket several small boxes and from his belt an old wallet. "I have some useless old trinkets here that have been knocking around in my trunk for years. If you will take them to town, where people wear such things, you will get enough for them to wipe out my account and something to boot for long service and good-will." Andy's sniffles were the only answer that followed. Jim turned to him, "Andy—"
But Andy refused the package. "Und say, boss. Und say, I ain't kickin'. Und say, I can trust you."
Jim only tossed the box into his hands. "Shorty," he said, as he slapped the wallet across the little fellow's shoulder.
"Oh, I'd rather not," Shorty shamefacedly answered. "Gee, but this is tough work," he muttered to himself.