Because them as poke around Miz Garret's workings without a by-your-leave ain't welcome, Mr. Wolcott, and you ought not to repeat your fuckin' mistake.
Well, that's an uncivil response to an innocent error.
Did you work in the Comstock when you was beardless?
I did.
For Mr. George Hearst, as a keen eye for the color?
As a geologist for Mr. Hearst. Well, you have the advantage of me, Mr. Ellsworth.
That ain't a possibility, Wolcott. No more than an error of yours would be innocent.
I do dimly recall an Ellsworth superintended the consolidated Virginia operations.
I don't give a fuck what you recall.
A hero. Dug a week without respite to save three poor souls from a cave-in.
And 46 corpses in a fucking hole that ought never to have been dug.
Always a choice... to count the saved or the lost.
Get off this property.
Just as a man opposed to inevitable change needn't invariably be called a Luddite, another choice might be simply to describe him as slow in his processes.
You tell that cocksucker you work for the next surrogate he sends oughtn't to be bloodied from the Comstock.
