"And he was trying to queer Ford--but you can search me for the reason why he didn't make good, there." Mose, like many of us, was a self-centered individual.

He wasted a minute, perhaps, thinking of the trick upon Ford; but he spent all of that forenoon and well into the afternoon in deep meditation upon the affair as it concerned himself.

And the first time Dick entered the presence of the cook, he got the result of Mose's reasoning.
"Tried to git me in bad, did yuh?
Thought you'd git me fired, hey ?" he shouted, as a sort of punctuation to the belaboring.
A rolling pin is considered a more or less fearsome weapon in the hands of a woman, I believe; when wielded by an incensed man who stands close to six feet and weighs a solid two hundred pounds, and who has the headache which follows inevitably in the wake of three pints of whisky administered internally in the short space of three hours or so, a rolling-pin should justly be classed with deadly weapons.
Jim said afterward that he never had believed it possible to act out the rough stuff of the silly supplements in the Sunday papers, but after seeing Mose perform with that rolling-pin, he was willing to call every edition of the "funny papers" realistic to a degree.

Since it was Jim who helped pull Mose off, naturally he felt qualified to judge.

Jim told Ford about the affair with sober face and eyes that laughed.
"And where's Dick ?" Ford asked him, without committing himself upon the justice of the chastisement.
"Gone to bed, I believe.