For a
year Joe had worked alone and had then employed a journeyman harness maker
who had drifted into town drunk and who got drunk every Saturday evening.
The new man was an odd character. He had a faculty for making money, but
seemed to care little about making it for himself. Within a week after he
came to town he knew every one in Bidwell. His name was Jim Gibson and he
had no sooner come to work for Joe than a contest arose between them. The
contest concerned the question of who was to run the shop. For a time
Joe asserted himself. He growled at the men who brought harness in to be
repaired, and refused to make promises as to when the work would be done.
Several jobs were taken away and sent to nearby towns. Then Jim Gibson
asserted himself. When one of the teamsters who had come to town with the
boom came with a heavy work harness on his shoulder, he went to meet him.
The harness was thrown with a rattling crash on the floor and Jim examined
it. "Oh, the devil, that's an easy job," he declared. "We'll fix that up in
a jiffy. You can have it to-morrow afternoon if you want it."
For a time Jim made it a practice to come to where Joe stood at work at his
bench and consult with him regarding prices to be charged for work. Then he
returned to the customer and charged more than Joe had suggested. After a
few weeks he slopped consulting Joe at all. "You're no good," he exclaimed,
laughing.
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