Oi had a haythen Swade foreman oncet over at the 'Last Chance.' God forgive me for workin' undher the loikes of him.

Sure he near worked me to death, he did that, the ignorant furriner.

Work! why, Oi 'm dommed if a green Swade did n't fall the full length of the shaft one day, an' whin we wint over to pick him up, what was it ye think the poor haythen said?
He opened his oies an' asked, 'Is the boss mad ?' afeared he 'd lose his job! An' so ye was workin' for a thafe, was ye?
An' what for ?" "Two tollar saxty cint." Mike leaped to his feet as though a spring had suddenly uncoiled beneath him, waving his arms in wild excitement, and dancing about on his short legs.
"Two dollars an' sixty cints! Did ye hear that, now?
For the love of Hivin! an' the union wages three sixty! Ye 're a dommed scab, an' it's meself that 'll wallup ye just for luck.

It's crazy Oi am to do the job.

What wud the loikes of ye work for Misther Hicks for ?" Swanson's impassive face remained imperturbable; he stroked the moustaches dangling over the corners of his dejected mouth.
"Two tollar saxty cint." Mike glared at him, and then at the girl, his own lips puckering.
"Bedad, Oi belave the poor cr'ater do n't know anny betther.