thought it. There must be something in the younker even if his hands is soft.”
His soliloquy was interrupted by Hatton’s harsh voice asking, “Who are those boys you were talking with?”
“Only Bub and a new feller I’ve hired for gang four,” carelessly replied McPherson, yet eying the manager narrowly from the corner of his eye.
“You mean the chap the men call Red?” said Hatton, looking after the youths.
“I guess that’s among his nicknames,” easily returned McPherson.
“Take him off. Tell him to get his time. He half killed Gilvey. He can’t work here.”
McPherson’s jaw squared and he closed his knife with a click. “Say, Mr. Hatton, who’s the most importance ’round here? The cook’s helper, or me?”
“Why, Mac, you’re worth a million helpers,” Hatton hastened to assure, detecting the danger signal in the Scotchman’s grey eyes.
“All right; I want that younker in my gang. Of course you don’t mind?”
Hatton smiled grimly at the politeness in McPherson’s low voice. He knew his man to be one of the best bosses in the district and one who could be very stubborn in small things.
