“You don’t mind if we go and talk to some of the men, do yuh, Devine?” he asked.
“Go to it,” smiled Barney. He had imbibed enough to make him feel kindly toward every one.
Hank corked the bottle, shoved it into his hip-pocket and followed Leach outside, where they headed for the mine bunkhouse. Devine laughed and held out a handful of cigars to Brick.
“Might as well smoke on Hank Stagg, Brick. I’ve tried five of ’em, and not one will draw. But that hooch has authority.”
Brick accepted one, lit and discarded it in a moment for a cigaret.
“What’s on your mind?” queried Barney.
“You use a lot of meat don’tcha, Barney?”
“Darned right we do. You can’t feed a crew like we’ve got and not use a lot of fresh meat.”
“Who do yuh buy from?”
“Hm-m-m.” Barney frowned thoughtfully, reached for a book and skipped through the pages. “Here it is—Mostano; J. Mostano. I think they call him Joe.”