"Well, I guess as Mr. Wheaton hired me, he'd better fire me," the fellow began, bringing his eye to bear upon Saxton.
"Yes, I spoke to Mr. Wheaton about you. He understands that you're to go."
"He does, does he?" Snyder replied with a sneer. "He must have forgot that I had an arrangement with him by the year."
"Well, it's all off," said Saxton, rising. He began throwing open the windows and doors to let in fresh air, for the place was foul with the stale fumes of whisky and tobacco.
"Well, I guess I'll have to see Mr. Wheaton," Snyder retorted, finding that Saxton was paying no further attention to him. He collected his few belongings, watching in astonishment the violence with which Saxton was gathering up and disposing of rubbish.
"Going to clean up a little?" he asked, with his leer.
"No, I'm just exercising for fun," replied Saxton. "If you're ready, you'd better take your pony and skip."
Snyder growled his resentment and moved toward the door with a bundle under his arm and a saddle and bridle thrown over his shoulder.
"I'll be up town to see Mr. Wheaton in a day or two," he declared, as he slouched through the door.
"He seems to be more interested in Wheaton than Wheaton is in him," observed Saxton to himself.