"Uh-huh. But where you goin' to git the money?"

"He was givin' me all the chewin' I wanted," said Pete.

"Uh-huh. Well, I ain't got no money for chewin'-tobacco. But I tell
you what, Pete. Now, say I was to give you a dollar a week for--for
your wages. And say I was to git you one of them guns like you said;
you couldn't shoot chewin'-tobacco in that gun, could you?"

"Most anybody knows that!" laughed Pete.

"But you could buy cartridges with that dollar--an' shoot lots."

"Would you lick me if I bought chewin'?"

"Shucks, no! I was jest leavin' it to you."

"When do I git that dollar--the first one?"

Annersley smiled to himself. Pete was shrewd and in no way inclined to
commit himself carelessly. Horse-trading had sharpened his wits to a
razor-edge and dire necessity and hunger had kept those wits keen.
Annersley was amused and at the same time wise enough in his patient,
slow way to hide his amusement and talk with Pete as man to man. "Why,
you ain't been workin' for me a week yet! And come to think--that
rooster was worth five dollars--every cent! What you say if I was to
charge that rooster up to you? Then after five weeks you was to git a
dollar, eh?"