that he might
go home. He was glad that it was Saturday, for he would have the next
day free.

It was dark by the time his tasks were done, and then he went to the
house for his week's pay. He had agreed to work for a dollar and a
half a day, and get his own breakfast and supper at home. Thus he had
nine dollars coming to him for his week's work. He was surprised,
therefore, when Simon Squabbles handed him out only eight dollars and
fifty cents.

"There is some mistake here," Jasper remarked as he counted over the
money. "I want fifty cents more."

"That's all you're goin' to get," Simon replied. "I saw ye loafin'
this afternoon when ye should have been workin', an' 'no work, no pay'
is my motto."

"Loafing, do you say?" Jasper asked, thinking that he had not heard
aright.

"Sure. Didn't I see ye leanin' on yer hoe watchin' that car which went
down the road? An' ye stood there a long time, too."

Into Jasper's eyes leaped an angry fire. He understood now the man he
had to deal with. So he had been watching him, and he had taken no
account of the work he had done all day.

"You were spying upon me, eh?" he retorted. "Didn't you see how I did
the work of two men to-day?"

"All I know is that you were loafin' when I saw ye, an' that was
enough."

"Look here, Simon Squabbles," and Jasper stepped close to his employer,
"if you were not as old as you are, I'd tie you into a bowknot in the
twinkling of an eye. You're not fit to be called a man, and not
another stroke of work do you get from me. Keep the fifty cents, if it
will do you any good. I am trying to make an honest living, but
creatures such as you are the ones who make it almost impossible."

The blood surged through Jasper's veins as he plodded along the muddy
road towards his humble cabin. The rain beat upon him and soaked his
clothes, but he did not seem to heed it, so filled was his mind with
the contemptible meanness of old Squabbles. He was in no pleasant
mood, and his hands often clenched hard together as he moved through
the darkness. What he was to do in the future, he did not know.
Neither did he much care. A reckless spirit was upon him. The whole
world was seething with injustice, so he believed. He had tried to be
honest, to make his way, but he had been foiled at every step. Why
should he try any longer? Simon Squabbles prospered through injustice;
Dick Sinclair could ride along in his car, dressed in the height of
f