"Still it is his money."
"He owes me more than that."
"Going to give him credit for it?"
"Am I a fool?" Hazen asked me. "Do I look like so much of a fool?"
"He may charge you with finding it."
"He loses a dollar; I find one. Can he prove ownership? Pshaw!" Hazen laughed again.
"If there is any spine in him he will lay the thing to you as a theft," I suggested. I was not afraid of angering Hazen. He allowed me open speech; he seemed to find a grim pleasure in my distaste for him and for his way of life.
"If there were any backbone in the man he would not be paying me eighty dollars a year on a five-hundred-dollar loan—discounted."
Hazen grinned at me triumphantly.
"I wonder if he will come back," I said.