"I am done—me," he muttered. "I work for no company that will leave honest men to starve."
It was hopeless from the start, yet Steve tried again.
"I can promise you work as long as you are able to hold a rein," he offered, but he moved nearer the door while he was speaking. "That is all I can promise."
Perhaps Fallon believed that Big Louie was weakening; perhaps he felt that the situation was too highly dramatic to be wasted, for he made a wide flourish with one hand.
"We want our time, and we want it now," he threatened. "We're going to show you who bosses this river, before we're done with you!"
Fallon shouldn't have gloated; he shouldn't have threatened. And Shayne shouldn't have smiled. Steve had slipped the latch loose. Now he swung open the door.
"Call for your time at the Morrison office," he said evenly, "and if you're going—why, go!"
By collar and belt he swung him back and drove him sprawling into a drift.
"Are you in a hurry, too, Shayne?" he asked pleasantly, and Shayne buried his head beside Fallon's in the snow. Then Steve closed the door carefully and turned again to Big Louie.
"Louie," he said, "I make it a rule to urge no man who does not wish to stay. If it needs persuasion to keep you, I do not want you here. But you are running with the wrong crowd, Louie; you'll learn it someday—but someday may be too late."