"I am not in the habit of telling the private affairs of my employers," said the man, coldly. "He does not need any information from me. He is not a fool. He knows it."
"Oh, he does, does he! Then you told him," asserted Wickersham, furiously.
This was more than the Scotchman could bear. He had already stood much, and his face might have warned Wickersham. Suddenly it flamed. He took one step forward, a long one, and rammed his clinched and hairy fist under the young man's nose.
"You lie! And, ---- you! you know you lie. I'm a law-abiding, God-fearing man; but if you don't take that back, I will break every bone in your face. I've a mind to do it anyhow."
Wickersham rolled back out of his chair as if the knotted fist under his nose had driven him. His face was white as he staggered to his feet.
"I didn't mean--I don't say--. What do you mean anyhow?" he stammered.
"Take it back." The foreman advanced slowly.
"Yes--I didn't mean anything. What are you getting so mad about?"
The foreman cut him short with a fierce gesture. "Write me that paper I want, and pay me my money."
"Write what--?"