"Why, sir?"

"Don't you know about hoodoos?"

"What I want," said Hal, "is the nigger's pay."

"No," said the boss, abruptly, "you stick by them mules. I got a good
stableman, and I don't want to spoil him. You stick, and by and by I'll
give you a raise. You go into them pits, the first thing you know you'll
get a fall of rock on your head, and the nigger's pay won't be no good
to you."

They came to the saloon and entered. Hal noted that a silence fell
within, and every one nodded and watched. It was pleasant to be seen
going out with one's boss.

O'Callahan, the proprietor, came forward with his best society smile and
joined them, and at Hal's invitation they ordered whiskies. "No, you
stick to your job," continued the pit-boss. "You stay by it, and when
you've learned to manage mules, I'll make a boss out of you, and let you
manage men."

Some of the bystanders tittered. The pit-boss poured down his whiskey,
and set the glass on the bar. "That's no joke," said he, in a tone that
every one could hear. "I learned that long ago about niggers. They'd say
to me, 'For God's sake, don't talk to our niggers like that. Some night
you'll have your house set afire.' But I said, 'Pet a nigger, and you've
got a spoiled nigger.' I'd say, 'Nigger, don't you give me any of your
imp, or I'll kick the breeches off you.' And they knew I was a