"You see boss," said Koppy, "and demand we boss ourselves—that I boss or job stops. We Workers know no boss; we please ourselves. We boss out here. If any one say no—slash!"
He struck downward with his right hand, as he would gladly strike when he had the chance. And Morani repeated the movement, only far more subtly and efficiently. Werner stumbled to his feet, his eyes on Morani's stiletto.
"Here, you butcher, I'm not a boss. Keep that sticker away from my shins. Put it up, Morani, for God's sake! You don't need practice."
Koppy motioned him roughly back to the bunk on which he had been lying.
"You three tell boss that."
"Like hell I do!" grumbled Werner, "when I'm off my nut."
"Like-a hell I do," repeated Morani fervently.
"Like hell I do," agreed Heppel solemnly.
"Like hell you all do," Koppy summed up acidly.
"And your precious skin—" began Werner.