able to squeeze out only three or four dollars, and here he
might have made ten. More in sorrow than in anger:

"Of course you understand I may have a lot of trouble working
you in on the _next_ boat, you coming as late as this. Course
five dollars is less 'n what I usually get." He contemptuously
tossed the bill on his desk. "If you want me to slip a little
something extra to the agents--"

Mr. Wrenn was too head-achy to be customarily timid. "Let's see
that. Did I give you only five dollars?" Receiving the bill, he
folded it with much primness, tucked it into the pocket of his
shirt, and remarked:

"Now, you said you'd fix me up for five dollars. Besides, that
letter from Baraieff is a form with your name printed on it; so
I know you do business with him right along. If five dollars
ain't enough, why, then you can just go to hell, Mr. Trubiggs;
yes, sir, that's what you can do. I'm just getting tired of
monkeying around. If five _is_ enough I'll give this back to you
Friday, when you send me off to Portland, if you give me a
receipt. There!" He almost snarled, so weary and discouraged
was he.

Now, Trubiggs was a warm-hearted rogue, and he liked the society
of what he called "white people." He laughed, poked a Pittsburg
stogie at Mr. Wrenn, and consented:

"All right. I'll fix you up. Have a smoke. Pay me the five
Friday, or pay it to my foreman when he puts you on the