"Well, Mister Man, supposin' you and me gets down to brass tacks, right now. I'm the Superintendent of No. 2 Camp, with a say in the management of Camps No. 1 and No. 3. I own three tugs operatin' on the coast here." He thumped his fist on the counter,--"and anything I have a hand in, my word goes,--understand." "You are a lucky man," I answered. "But your word won't go here unless it coincides with mine, Mister Clark. "Now," I added briskly, "tell me your business, or get out. I have other work to do." He raised his hand and leaned across the counter, as if to clutch me by the throat, and a terrible paw of a hand it was, too. But, evidently, he thought better of it. Not that I fancied for a moment that he was afraid of me at all, because I knew quite well that he was not. He sat down on a box and watched me closely, sizing me up at every angle as I busied myself adjusting some tins on the shelves that were in no way in need of adjustment. "Guess you think I pay men to take picnics for the good of their health down to this one-horse outfit." "I have not wasted any thoughts on you at all, so far, Mr. Clark," I replied. "Why'n the hell didn't you fill my order yesterday?" "Was it your order?" "'Course it was. Wrote it out myself, every bit of it." "Well,--you're a rotten writer, Mr. Clark." "Oh!--can it. What kind of a tin-pot way of doin' business was that? What was this damned place started for anyway, if not for the convenience of the Camps?" "I suppose you think I ought to know your writing?" I asked. "Well,--Mr. Clark, even if I had known it, I would not have accepted the order as it was. My positive instructions are that all camp orders have to be filled only on receipt of a stamped and signed document on the Company's business form for that purpose. And that's the only way goods will go out from here, whether for Joe Clark or for any one else." "And what if I ain't got an order with me now? Guess you'll turn me down same as you did the others yesterday?" "That is just what I would have to do." "The hell you would!" He put his hand into his pocket and brought out some papers, one of which he threw on the counter. "There's your blasted order. Get a wiggle on, for I ain't here on a pleasure jaunt,--not by a damn sight. I'll be back in an hour for them goods." "Better make it an hour and a half. It's a big order and it will not be ready a minute sooner." "Gosh!" he growled, as he strode out, "some store-clerk,---I don't think." I filled the requirements of Camp No. 2 to the best of my ability, packing up the goods and making everything as secure as necessary for the boat trip. I had the stuff all piled nicely on the veranda and was sitting on the steps contemplating and admiring the job, when the dinghy came back with Joe Clark in the stern as before. "Hi, there!--you with the breeches and the leggings,--ain't you got that order of mine ready yet?"