"You can't work for us anymore, Bitters," he said, shortly. "Horse-flesh costs too much money. I'm no soft-hearted fool, but at the same time I won't allow any driver to injure our animals—it's not profitable. You can let the truck stand where it is, and get the pay due you."
At this the truckman began to mutter under his breath, and then he shook his fist Franklin.
"I'll fix you for this; mark my words if I don't," he said.
Then he attempted to argue with his employer, but it was all to no purpose. Montague Smith spoke to the others present about the affair, and learned from them, that what Franklin had said was strictly true. The truckman was discharged, and went off to find consolation at some neighboring saloon.
"You ought to have notified me of this before, Macklin," said Montague Smith, to the other truck driver. "I told you to keep an eye on Bitters."
"He said he was going to reform," pleaded Macklin. "And I didn't want him to lose his job, seeing that he's got a sick wife on his hands."
"I don't care if he's got a wife and sixteen children," returned Montague Smith, heartlessly.
"He can go to the dogs for all I care. But he can't injure our horses—it's too expensive. He ruined old Joe, and we had to sell him for less than a hundred."
