"Looking for a job, eh?"

Donnegan shrugged.

"Work ain't my line," he confided.

"H'm-m-m," said Hal Stern. "Well, you don't make no bones about it."

"But just now," continued Donnegan, "I thought maybe I'd pick up some
sort of a job for a while." He looked ruefully at the palms of his hands
which were as tender as the hands of a woman. "Heard a fellow say that
Jack Landis was a good sort to work for--didn't rush his men none. They
said I might find him here."

The big man grunted.

"Too early for him. He don't circulate around much till the sun goes
down. Kind of hard on his skin, the sun, maybe. So you're going to work
for him?"

"I was figuring on it."

"Well, tie to this, bud. If you work for him you won't have him over
you."

"No?"

"No, you'll have"--he glanced a little uneasily around him--"Lord Nick."