Those that were called stupid newcomers became indignant. Just when they wanted to fight back, who would have guessed that the other individual suddenly lost interest and shouted, “Guys, chop these fellows who want to cause a disturbance into pieces and feed them to the rotting wolves!”
Ten more figures responded and surrounded this place.
Miserable cries sounded briefly, and the wilderness became peaceful again. Everyone wanted to rest as much as possible to mine out another piece of ore tomorrow.
From the shed, Crippled Peter could no longer see the boy’s figure. He scratched his nearly bald head and muttered, “Where is that youngster going? If he gets eaten by the rotting wolves, then I would’ve lost those five cents. Hey, Old Hans, do you think that I’ll lose those five cents?”
Old Hans, who was leaning against the shed, raised his hands and said, “Who knows.”
Crippled Peter stood up with difficulty and began to clean up the food and inventory list. His remaining leg was thick and solid enough that it could support his body that was over a hundred kilograms in weight without crutches. He picked up the slip of paper he received from the boy and was about to throw it away when he suddenly remembered something. He looked at it again and said to himself, “Grade three drinking water… I really don’t know what he needs such a thing for. The radiation inside the mine is many times more powerful than the sewage outside. This isn’t something that drinking a bit of clean water can get rid of.”
Old Hans took the slip of paper from Peter and looked it over. After sweeping his eyes over the number, he crumpled it up and threw it into the fire pit outside the shed.
Old Hans coughed a few times and spat on the ground. “Peter, go and tell Mad Dog Mida to deduct ten less kilograms from the child’s basket. If he can work here for a full month, then count it as the full amount.”
Peter said, “That seems a bit unfair.”