That's the land of nothin' to do out there, an' I got a ticket for it--an' it ain't no return ticket, b'gosh!" A few minutes later, filling the truck with soiled clothes for the washer, Joe spied the hotel manager's shirt.

He knew its mark, and with a sudden glorious consciousness of freedom he threw it on the floor and stamped on it.
"I wish you was in it, you pig-headed Dutchman!" he shouted.

"In it, an' right there where I've got you! Take that! an' that! an' that! damn you! Hold me back, somebody! Hold me back!" Martin laughed and held him to his work.

On Tuesday night the new laundrymen arrived, and the rest of the week was spent breaking them into the routine.

Joe sat around and explained his system, but he did no more work.
"Not a tap," he announced.