The curious part about it to Hal was that Stone seemed to be reasonably
good-natured about such proceedings. Hardly one time in a thousand did
he carry out his bloodthirsty threats, and like as not he would laugh
when he had finished his tirade, and the object of it would grin in
turn--but without slackening his frightened efforts. After the
broad-sword waving episode, seeing that Hal had been watching, the boss
remarked, "That's the way you have to manage them wops." Hal took this
remark as a tribute to his American blood, and was duly flattered.

He sought out the boss that evening, and found him with his feet upon
the railing of his home. "Mr. Stone," said he, "I've something I'd like
to ask you."

"Fire away, kid," said the other.

"Won't you come up to the saloon and have a drink?"

"Want to get something out of me, hey? You can't work me, kid!" But
nevertheless he slung down his feet from the railing, and knocked the
ashes out of his pipe and strolled up the street with Hal.

"Mr. Stone," said Hal, "I want to make a change."

"What's that? Got a grouch on them mules?"

"No, sir, but I got a better job in sight. Mike Sikoria's buddy is laid
up, and I'd like to take his place, if you're willing."

"Why, that's a nigger's place, kid. Ain't you scared to take a nigger's
place?"