"Part of that I
spent for tools they was too stingy to give me. Now they kick me out."
"Oh, no, they don't," said Thorne. "Not any! But you agree with me,
don't you, that you couldn't hold down the job?"
"I suppose so," snapped California John. "To hell with such a game. I
think I'll go over Goldfield way."
"No, you won't," said Thorne gently. "You'll stay here, in the Service."
"What!" cried the old man rising to his feet; "stay here in the Service!
And every mountain man to point me out as that old fool Davidson who got
fired after workin' nine years like a damn ijit. You talk foolish!"
Thorne arose too, and put one hand on the old man's shoulder.
"And what about those nine years?" he asked gently. "Things looked
pretty dark, didn't they? You didn't have enough to live on; and you got
your salary docked without any reason or justice; and you had to stand
one side while the other fellows did things dishonest and wrong; and it
didn't look as though it was ever going to get better. Nine years is a
long time. Why did you do it?"
"I don't know," muttered California John.
"It was just waiting for this time that is coming.
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