Page:Frank Packard - On the Iron at Big Cloud.djvu/321

 final injunction to the proprietor to stand by his guns, turned and joined Thornley and the men.

"Vell, py golly!" screamed Dutchy above the din. "Vat iss it? Who was der commencer of dot joke dot iss ten dollars to pay? It iss dot Thornley!"

"Why, you wretched old thief," yelled Thornley, "do you think we're going to pay you for grub we didn't get, because you wouldn't let us have it, and then pay you for it again when you do dole it out? We'll see you further, first."

"It vas agreed in front of der—hang dot word!—py der—"

"Agreed nothing!" snorted Thornley.

"Dot you vill for repates no longer ask, yet, don'd it? Vell, der price ten dollars iss. Dere iss no repate. Oh, py golly, Mister Thornley, dot vas an expensive joke—yess? Dot vas your joke, und I shusht thought me dot I hope you will pay dot yourself." Thornley paid. With no good grace, but because, as MacDonald had said they would, the men made him. Disgruntled and angry, he led the file into the restaurant, placing ten dollars and twenty-five cents in Dutchy's hand before he crossed the threshold.

Behind him followed MacDonald and the grinning line of men, each contributing their quarters—in advance—for the first square meal they had had that day.

"Eat vat you like," said Dutchy magnanimously.

Thornley glared. "Eat vat you like! Eat vat you like!" he mimicked savagely. "I like your colossal generosity at my expense!"