Some of the bystanders tittered. The pit-boss poured down his whiskey, and set the glass on the bar. “That's no joke,” said he, in a tone that every one could hear. “I learned that long ago about niggers. They'd say to me, 'For God's sake, don't talk to our niggers like that. Some night you'll have your house set afire.' But I said, 'Pet a nigger, and you've got a spoiled nigger.' I'd say, 'Nigger, don't you give me any of your imp, or I'll kick the breeches off you.' And they knew I was a gentleman, and they stepped lively.”
“Have another drink,” said Hal.
The pit-boss drank, and becoming more sociable, told nigger stories. On the sugar-plantations there was a rush season, when the rule was twenty hours' work a day; when some of the niggers tried to shirk it, they would arrest them for swearing or crap-shooting, and work them as convicts, without pay. The pit-boss told how one “buck” had been brought before the justice of the peace, and the charge read, “being cross-eyed”; for which offence he had been sentenced to sixty days' hard labour. This anecdote was enjoyed by the men in the saloon—whose race-feelings seemed to be stronger than their class-feelings.
When the pair went out again, it was late, and the boss was cordial. “Mr. Stone,” began Hal, “I don't want to bother you, but I'd like first rate to get more pay. If you could see your way to let me have that buddy's job, I'd be more than glad to divide with you.”
“Divide with me?” said Stone. “How d'ye mean?” Hal waited with some apprehension—for if Mike had not assured him so positively, he would have expected a swing from the pit-boss's mighty arm.
“It's worth about fifteen a month more to me. I haven't any cash, but if you'd be willing to charge off ten dollars from my store-account, it would be well worth my while.”
They walked for a short way in silence. “Well, I'll tell you,” said the boss, at last; “that old Slovak is a kicker—one of these fellows that thinks he could run the mine if he had a chance. And if you get to listenin' to him, and think you can come to me and grumble, by God—”
“That's all right, sir,” put in Hal, quickly. “I'll manage that for you—I'll shut him up. If you'd like me to, I'll see what fellows he talks with, and if any of them are trying to make trouble, I'll tip you off.”
“Now that's the talk,” said the boss, promptly. “You do that, and I'll keep my eye on you and give you a chance. Not that I'm afraid of the old fellow—I told him last time that if I heard from him again, I'd kick the breeches off him. But when you got half a thousand of this foreign scum, some of them Anarchists, and some of them Bulgars and Montynegroes that's been fightin' each other at home—”
“I understand,” said Hal. “You have to watch 'em.”