“Who’s th’ bucko?” inquired Silver Jack of a man near the stove.
“That’s Roaring Dick Darrell, walkin’ boss for M. & D.,” replied the other.
Silver Jack drew his flax-white eyebrows together.
“Roaring Dick, eh? Roaring Dick? Fine name fer a bad man. I s’pose he thinks he’s perticular reckless, don’t he?”
“I do’no. Guess he is. He’s got th’ name fer it.”
“Well,” said Silver Jack, drawing his powerful back into a bow, “I ain’t much; but I don’t like noise—’specially roaring.”
With the words he walked directly across the saloon to the foreman.
“My name is Silver Jack,” said he, “I come from Muskegon way. I don’t like noise. Quit it.”
“All right,” replied Dick.