Don Sebastian

"What do you mean by your not being the man he wanted?"

Payne smiled in a deprecatory way. "I allow that I was willing to make a
few dollars on the cement, but working against white men in a dago plot
is a different thing."

"Then there is a plot?"

"Well," said Payne quietly, "I don't know much about it, but something's
going on."

Jake lighted a cigarette while he pondered. He was not surprised that
Payne should talk to him with confidential familiarity, because the
situation warranted it, and the American workman is not, as a rule,
deferential to his employer. The fellow might be mistaken, but he
believed that Oliva had schemed to get him into his power and work upon
his wish for revenge. Jake could understand Oliva's error. Payne's moral
code was rudimentary, but he had some racial pride and would not act like
a treacherous renegade.

"I begin to see how your account against Oliva stands," he remarked. "But
is that the only entry in your book?"

"I guess not," Payne replied. "Mr. Brandon's name is there, but the entry
is against myself. It was a straight fight when he had me fired, and he
took me back when he found I was down and out."

Jake nodded. "You have already warned Brandon that he might be in some
danger in the town."

"That's so. Since then, I reckoned that they were getting after him
here, but we were more likely to hold them up if they didn't know we
knew. That's why I called out to show I thought it was Pepe who was in
the shack."