It's shore wrong somewhere." "They have more trade in K.C.," suggested the proprietor.
"An' help, an' taxes, an' a license, an' rent, an' brass, cut glass, mahogany an' French mirrors," countered the foreman.
"They have more trade," reiterated the man with the cigars.
"Forty men spend thirty dollars apiece with yu every month." The proprietor busied himself under the bar.

"Yu'll feel better to-morrow.
Anyway, what do yu care, yu won't lose yore job," he said, emerging.
Buck looked at him and frowned, holding back the words which formed in anger.

What was the use, he thought, when every man judged the world in his own way.
"Have yu seen any of th' boys ?" He asked, smiling again.
"Nary a boy.

Who do yu reckon's doin' all this rustlin' ?" "I'm reckonin', not shoutin'," responded the foreman.
The proprietor looked out the window and grinned: "Here comes one of yourn now." The newcomer stopped his horse in a cloud of dust, playfully kicked the animal in the ribs and entered, dusting the alkali from him with a huge sombrero.

Then he straightened up and sniffed: "What's burnin' ?" he asked, simulating alarm.