"I need them, tramping to Chicago."
"Chicago's not a bad town if you know where to go. Say, presently you'll come to Snow Shoe. Don't go past it. You'll get something there."
The old man stopped a minute in his talk, and stared at me knowingly, didactically.
"Rich miners," he went on. "You need only ask. See this packet of tobacco, they gave it to me at the Company store. That's the thing I can't get on without, must have it. If a man asks me for a smoke and I haf it to give I must give him also. Where've you come from yesterday, Orviston?"
"No. Monument."
"Is there anything there?" he whispered mysteriously.
"Not much to be had," said I. "But there's a good deal of work, and they're bringing in a big gang of Italians. You can't get much of anything at the farms."
"Where Guineas are, I don't go. I don't like the Eyetaylians."
"D'you like the Jews?"
"They're a good people," said he. "Don't say anything against the Jews. I know a Jew who gives free boots to tramps. Last year I went into his store, and one of the shopmen came up to me and said, 'I know what you want, you'll get it. I'll tell the boss when he comes out.' And he gave me a powerful pair of boots, and sent me across the road to the Quick-lunch with a letter to the boss there, to give me a good dinner. So I never say anything against the Jews."