It was plainly evident the proprietor of the saloon felt no enthusiasm over his unknown customers.

The eyes of the two men met understandingly, but the few words exchanged between them were entirely foreign to the situation.
Mike came back with the beer and sandwiches, pausing this time to wipe off the table, as an excuse for speech.
"You guys live 'round here ?" he asked gruffly, "Don't remember ever seein' yer in here before." "No," returned West indifferently, looking directly into the hard face.
"I'm a smoke inspector, an' we just dropped in on our way back to the office.

Why ?" "Oh, nuthin'; only we don't get much trade outside the neighbourhood.

I wish ter hell ye'd get after that tannery; can't hardly breathe here sometimes." "That's what we were looking after; had some complaints lately." "Sure, I been kickin' 'bout it for a month.

You fellers have another beer on me." He walked back toward the bar, pausing an instant to whisper a word to the taller man who still stood there staring moodily at the table.