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For when the Committee went out after culprits, it did not return empty-handed, as the populace knew well. "They're comin'," Jim announced, thrusting his head into the gambling hall and raising his voice above the sound of the boss's nail-driving. "Well what of it?" snapped Bill. "Why don't you yell at me that the sun is going to set in the west to-night?"
'I'll stick all right, I said 'you've been having too much beer, Andy. I had seen Mrs Baker before, and remembered her as a cheerful, contented sort of woman, bustling about the house and getting the Boss's shirts and things ready when we started North. Just the sort of woman that is contented with housework and the children, and with nothing particular about her in the way of brains.
White to the lips, he jumped from his chair to meet the Boss's sneering eyes. The Curé laid a gentle hand on his arm, and he settled back shamefacedly. "Your pardon, mon père my nerves are on edge excuse me an inheritance of the trenches." "Emotion is bad for you, my son, and you should not emotion yourself," said the Priest gently. "Do you travel far when you leave us now?"
I've been thinking for a long time of marrying and settling down. Then the Boss cleaned me out." Murphy chuckled. "How was that?" asked Dennis. Mrs. Flynn began to clear the table very slowly. "Well, this is the way of it," and Murphy told the story of his first meeting with Jim. "I've seen him in action, you see," he concluded, "and I'd be sorry for Fleckenstein if he crosses the Boss's path."
Another of the boss's ideas of scientific management seemed to be to employ as few bright and useful girls as possible. He started with three. He ended with just one. From dawn to dewy eve I tore.
It blocked a whole crowd from listin' that I know myself would ha' joined. Queered the boss's sons raisin' that Company too. They 'ad Frickers an' the B.S.L. Co. an' the works to draw from. Could ha' raised a couple hundred easy if Ben Shrillett 'adn't got at 'em. You know 'ow 'e talks the fellers round. 'I know, agreed Jem, sucking hard at his pipe. The Sergeant broke in on their talk.
"Air you agoin' to handle stock or chase coyotes?" "My job's huntin'." "Wal, it may be thet from sunup to sundown, but between times you'll be sure busy otherwise, I opine," went on Lem. "Did you meet the boss's son?" "Yes, he was there. An' Belllounds made it plain I was to take orders from him an' not from his son."
What I'm trying to tell you is what everybody in the sage-brush hills save and excepting yourself knows like a book, and that is that the big boss's moves are all made strictly in the dark. He doesn't let his own right hand know what the left is doing. That's the secret of his absolutely Czarish power, I think."
Mavy, known on the camp books as Peter Maverick, received the summons to the boss's shack with his customary silence. For a moment after Conrad delivered the message he hesitated, then, nodding shortly, he swung into the trestle and began to clamber up by way of the hundred and fifty feet of network supports, scorning the path that led up the bank before the foreman's shack.
Joe Blagg was among the last of Mascola's men to come for his money. And though he said nothing when he signed the pay-roll, Blagg nursed a grouch against his employer. Mascola had cursed him out that morning and no livin' dago could do that. He'd get square, or his name wasn't Joe Blagg. The bartender shoved a black bottle toward him as he pocketed his money. "Boss's treat," he announced.
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