"I'm to begin work here to-day, I was told," he said. "Can you start me in?"

"I'm not the boss."

"I know that, but couldn't you show me the ropes before the others come?"

"Why, there's an empty locker for your traps," said the man. "When the foreman comes, he'll tell you what your duties are."

"No harm putting in the time usefully, I suppose?" insinuated Ralph.

"I suppose not," answered the taciturn helper. He seemed a sickly, spiritless creature, whom misfortune or a naturally crabbed temper had warped clear out of gear.

Ralph stowed his dinner pail in the locker, slipped on overalls and jumper and an old pair of shoes, and placed the fingerless gloves he had prepared in a convenient pocket.

The lame helper had disappeared. Ralph noticed that the place needed sweeping. He went to where the brooms stood, selected one, and started in at his voluntary task.

He felt he was doing something to improve the looks of things, and worked with a will. He had made the greasy boards look quite spick and smooth, and was whistling cheerily at his work, when a gruff growl caused him to look up.

The foreman, Tim Forgan, confronted him with a lowering, suspicious brow.

"Who told you to do that?" he demanded sharply.

"Why, n.o.body," answered Ralph. "I like to keep busy, that's all. No harm, I hope?"

"Yes, there is!" snapped Forgan. Ralph surprisedly wondered why this man seemed determined to be at odds with him. He had not fallen in with very cheerful or elevating company. Forgan continued to regard him with an evil eye.

"See here," he said roughly, "I'll have discipline here, and I'll be boss. I'll give you your duties, and if you step over the line, get out. This isn't a playroom, as you'll probably find out before you've been here long."

Ralph thought it best to maintain silence.

"You take that box and can yonder, and go to the supply and oil sheds and get some waste and grease. Slump will be here soon, take your orders from him for to-day."

Ralph bowed politely and understandingly.

"I'll tell you another thing," went on Forgan harshly. "Don't you get to knowing too much, or talking about it. I'll have no spying around my affairs."

Ralph was astonished. He tried to catch the keynote of the foreman's plaint. Suspicion seemed the incentive of his anger, and yet Ralph could trace no reason for it.

An open doorway led from one side of the roundhouse. Ralph picked up a heavy sheet-iron pail and a tin box with a handle. Just then the helper came into view.

"Where do I go for oil and waste?" asked Ralph.

The helper surlily pointed through the doorway. Ralph found himself in a bricked-in pa.s.sage, slippery with oil, and leading to a narrow yard.

On one side was a row of sheds, whose interior comprised bins for boxes filled with all kinds of metal fittings. On the other side were like sheds, full of cans, pails and barrels. From here some men were conveying barrow loads of pails and cans filled with oil and grease, and Ralph went to an open door.

Inside was a grimy, greasy fellow marking something on a card tacked to the wall. Ralph told him who he was, got both receptacles filled, and went back to the roundhouse.

He sat down on a bench and watched a fireman go through the finishing touches on his engine which put it "to sleep." The last whistle sounded, and in through the doorway came Ike Slump.

The latter was a wiry, elfish fellow, usually very volatile and active.

On this especial morning, however, he looked ugly, depressed and wicked.

He went over to his locker, threw in his dinner pail, put on a pair of overalls, and for the first time observed Ralph.

"h.e.l.lo!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, taking a step backward, hunching his shoulders, showing his teeth, and lurching forward much with the pose of a prize fighter descending on an easy victim.

"Good-morning, Ike," said Ralph pleasantly.

Ike Slump indulged in a vicious snarl.

"Morning nothing!" he snapped. "What you doing here?"

"I'm going to work here."

"Who says so?"

"The foreman."

"When?"

"Yesterday, and ten minutes ago. In fact, I am waiting to begin under your directions, as he ordered."

"Oh, you are!" muttered Ike darkly, and in hissing long-drawn-out accents. "That's your lay, is it? Well, say, do you see those?"

Ike glanced keenly about him. Then advancing, he strutted up to Ralph, bunched one set of coa.r.s.e, dirty knuckles, and rested them squarely on Ralph's nose.

Ralph did not budge for a second or two. When he did, it was with infinite unconcern and the remark:

"Yes, I see them, and a little soap and water wouldn't hurt them any."

"Say! do you want to insult me? say! are you spoiling for a fight?

say----"

"Keep a little farther away, please," suggested Ralph, putting out one of those superbly-rounded, magnificently-formed arms of his, which sent the bullying Ike back, stiff and helpless as if he was at the end of an iron rod.

"Say----" Ike began on his war dance again. "This is too much!" Then he subsided as he noticed the foreman cross the roundhouse. "No chance now, but to-night, after work, we'll settle this!"

"Just as you like, Ike," a.s.sented Ralph accommodatingly--"only, drop it long enough just now to start me in at my duties, or we'll both have Mr.

Forgan in our hair."

Ike unclinched his fists, but he continued to growl and grumble to himself.

"A nice sneak you are!" Ralph made out. "Thought you'd be smart! Gave away my tip, didn't you?"

"See here, Ike, what do you mean?"

"I mean I told you I was going to leave, and you promised to hang around and come on deck when I'd had my pay."

"The way things turned out," said Ralph, "there was no occasion for that."

"You bet there wasn't! You just sneaked the word to Forgan double-quick, he told the old man, and I got a walloping, locked up on bread and water yesterday, and all my plans scattered about leaving. You bet I'll cut the job just the same, though!" declared Ike, with a vicious snap of his jaws. "Only, you gave me away, and I'm going to pay you off for it."