"
But a puff or two on his pipe soothed him, "Red's" bark was always worse
than his bite. He was the best-natured chap in the world, and he idolized
Gilbert Jones. There was a big packing-case in the middle of the room, and
he sat on it, tailor-fashion, as happy as a husky, normal young man can be.
He looked longingly at the unset table; but his thoughts were more of
Angela Hardy than of the good meal to come.
"'Red,'" said Gilbert after a brief silence, "I was hoping to be able to
pay you off to-day."
"Pay me off?" That would have been heaven! He could have taken Angela to
the movies at Bisbee.
"Yes."
"Oh, forget it! You don't owe me nothin'!"
"Only a mere trifle of six months' wages," Gilbert laughed.
"Red" had put his head in one hand, and leaned back on the case, at peace
with the world. His left foot beat a little tattoo on the side of the box.
Now he sat up straight and looked sharply at Jones.
"What's the use of talking about this?" he wanted to know. "You ain't got
it, have you?"
Gilbert paused the fraction of a second. "No," he had to admit, "But that
doesn't alter the fact that I owe you money." He went over and stood close
to his foreman.
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