“Shut up,” Sexton roared petulantly. Rondeau shrugged contemptuously, turned, and with a sweep of his great arm indicated to his men that they were to go; then, without a backward glance to see that they followed, the woods-boss strode away in the direction of the Laguna Grande mill. Arrived at the mill-office, he entered, took down the telephone, and called up Shirley Sumner.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “Jules Rondeau speaks to you. I have for you zee good news. Bryce Cardigan, she puts in the crossing to-day. One man of the law she comes from San Francisco with papers, and M'sieur Sexton say to me: 'Rondeau, we are whip'. Deesmess your men.' So I have deesmess doze men, and now I deesmess myself. Mebbeso bimeby I go to work for M'sieur Cardigan. For Mademoiselle I have no weesh to make trouble to fire me. I queet. I will not fight dose dirty fight some more. Au revoir, mademoiselle. I go.”
“What's this, what's this?” Sexton demanded. “You re going to quit? Nonsense, Rondeau, nonsense!”
“I will have my time, M'sieur,” said Jules Rondeau. “I go to work for a man. Mebbeso I am not woods-boss for heem, but--I work.”
“You'll have to wait until the Colonel returns, Rondeau.”
“I will have my time,” said Jules Rondeau patiently.
“Then you'll wait till pay-day for it, Rondeau. You know our rules. Any man who quits without notice waits until the regular pay-day for his money.”
Jules advanced until he towered directly over the manager. “I tol' M'sieur I would have my time,” he repeated once more. “Is M'sieur deaf in zee ears?” He raised his right hand, much as a bear raises its paw; his blunt fingers worked a little and there was a smoldering fire in his dark eyes.
Without further protest Sexton opened the safe, counted out the wages due, and took Rondeau's receipt.
“Thank you, M'sieur,” the woods-boss growled as he swept the coin into his pocket. “Now I work for M'sieur Cardigan; so, M'sieur, I will have zee switchengine weeth two flat-cars and zee wrecking-car. Doze dam trash on zee crossing--M'sieur Cardigan does not like, and by gar, I take heem away. You onderstand, M'sieur? I am Jules Rondeau, and I work for M'sieur Cardigan. La la, M'sieur!” The great hand closed over Sexton's collar. “Not zee pistol--no, not for Jules Rondeau.”
