"To go to Dawson with us. That tall, good-looking fellow at the bar."
Mr. Best was bewildered. "What ails you?" he queried. "I don't want any men, and you know it."
"You want this fellow, and you're going to hire him."
"Am I? What makes you think so?"
"Because it's—him or me," Laure said, calmly.
Mr. Best was both surprised and angered at this cool announcement. "You mean, I s'pose, that you'll quit," he said, belligerently.
"I mean that very thing. The man has money—"
Best's anger disappeared as if by magic; his tone became apologetic. "Oh! Why didn't you say so? If he'll pay enough, and if you want him, why, of course—"
Laure interrupted with an unexpected dash of temper. "He isn't going to pay you anything: you're going to pay him—top wages, too. Understand?"
The unhappy recipient of this ultimatum raised his hands in a gesture of despair. "Himmel! There's no understanding you girls! There's no getting along with you, either. What's on your mind, eh? Are you after him or his coin?"