"Ye'll consider it settled that I'm nadin' a tin days' vacation right away, an' must have it."
"I can't do it, O'Meara; that's it. I would not give you your place again, and I won't pay you a cent of this quarter's salary."
Judson's foolish temper was always his undoing.
"You say you won't?" O'mie asked with a smile.
"No, I won't. Hereafter you may beg your way or starve!" Judson fairly shouted.
"Excuse me, Mr. Amos Judson, but I'm not to thim straits yit. Not yit. I've a little bank account an' a good name at Cris Mead's bank. Most as good as yours."
The shot went home. Judson had but recently failed to get the bank's backing in a business dealing he had hoped to carry through on loans, and it had cut his vanity deeply.
"Good-bye, Amos, I'll be back, but not any sooner than ye nade me," and he was gone.
The next day Dever the stage driver told us O'mie was going up to Wyandotte on business.
"Whose business?" I asked. "He doesn't know a soul in Wyandotte, except Tell and Jim, who were working up there the last I knew. Tell may be in Fort Scott now. Whose business was it?"