The things we do!

Grinding the lives out of us! Working
us like dogs, and paying us starvation wages, while he rolls up his
millions and lives like a prince!"
Green lights began to play through the gray of Freckles' eyes.
"Wessner," he said impressively, "you'd make a fine pattern for the
father of liars! Every man on that gang is strong and hilthy, paid all
he earns, and treated with the courtesy of a gentleman! As for the Boss
living like a prince, he shares fare with you every day of your lives!"
Wessner was not a born diplomat, but he saw he was on the wrong tack, so
he tried another.
"How would you like to make a good big pile of money, without even
lifting your hand?" he asked.
"Humph!" said Freckles. "Have you been up to Chicago and cornered wheat,
and are you offering me a friendly tip on the invistment of me fortune?"
Wessner came close.
"Freckles, old fellow," he said, "if you let me give you a pointer, I
can put you on to making a cool five hundred without stepping out of
your tracks."
Freckles drew back.
"You needn't be afraid of speaking up," he said.


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