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When I hear of what Germany is doing to poor little Belgium it makes my blood boil I have worked with the Germans, and I have a little idea of what it would mean to turn the world over to them so I'm off to draw my time." Well, when I came back from the boss's cabin, I found Steve packing up, and I said, "Why, what's the matter, Steve?"
Evidently, the boss and his friends appreciated this attitude, for it was reported to me shortly after the Convention that I was to be given recognition and by the boss's orders would soon be placed on the eligible list for future consideration in connection with a place on the legislative ticket. One lesson I learned was not to be embittered by defeat.
To which he answered, "That's all right; I always put on the boss's brand." I answered, "Oh, very well. Now you go straight back to the ranch and get what is owing to you; I don't need you any longer." He jumped up and said: "Why, what's the matter? I was putting on your brand." And I answered: "Yes, my friend, and if you will steal for me you will steal from me."
So, equipped with a Broadarrow arrow Horse and the boss's field-glasses, he put in week after week at den-hunting that is, lying asleep in some possible look-out, with an occasional glance over the country when it seemed easier to do that than to lie still. The Coyotes had learned to avoid the open.
The men had left a long line of hogs in various stages of preparation, and the foreman was directing the feeble efforts of a score or two of clerks and stenographers and office boys to finish up the job and get them into the chilling rooms. Jurgis went straight up to him and announced, "I have come back to work, Mr. Murphy." The boss's face lighted up. "Good man!" he cried. "Come ahead!"
I thought of Boss's preamble about the mysterious influence upon man exerted by that ermine-lined monster that now covered our little world, and knew he was right. Of all the curious knickknacks, mysteries, puzzles, Indian gifts, rat-traps, and well-disguised blessings that the gods chuck down to us from the Olympian peaks, the most disquieting and evil-bringing is the snow.
Lloyd had not been at home in the morning, and they had been forced to wait until late afternoon. The two entered the dining-room, where Ellen and her mother sat at work. Abby spoke at once, and to the point. "Well," said she, "the shop's going to be opened to-morrow." "On what terms?" asked Ellen. "On the boss's, of course," replied Abby, in a hard voice.
"When I reach the city there's one other thing, if I've the money after the muff is finished." He told McLean of Mrs. Duncan's desire for a hat similar to the Angel's. He hesitated a little in the telling, keeping sharp watch on McLean's face. When he saw the Boss's eyes were full of comprehension and sympathy, he loved him anew, for, as ever, McLean was quick to understand.
She avoided him and he seemed to hesitate to seek her out. Would the up-state returns, I had wondered at first, be large enough to overcome the hostile city vote? I was amazed now to see how strongly the city was turning to Travis. "McLoughlin has kept his word," ejaculated Kennedy as district after district showed that the Boss's pluralities were being seriously cut into. "His word?
Being a little too exalted for the men's hut, and a great deal too vile for the boss's house, I was quartered in the narangies' barracks. Social status, apart from all consideration of mind, manners, or even money, is more accurately weighed on a right-thinking Australian station than anywhere else in the world.
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