Work began at once. Through Mayor Bradley three reliable men were employed as watchmen, and these, in eight-hour shifts, undertook the duty of seeing that nothing in the corral was molested in the absence of Ned and Alan. Then the work of transporting material began, the first task being the removal of the five large generating tanks.

Alan had been thoughtful enough to foresee the need of special clothing, and it was not long before he and Ned and even Elmer Grissom were enjoying the freedom of wide-brimmed hats, stout shirts, thick-soled shoes, and belts. Elmer's duty was the constant care of the Placida, which he only left on special permission. Ned and Alan were free to devote themselves wholly to the agreeable and long antic.i.p.ated task of at last "getting ready."

Help was easily hired and with Buck's wagon in service the wide-opened doors of the baggage car seemed to give out more boxes, crates and bundles than a full freight car. When strangers were on the car the colored boy stood like a sentinel over the black case which was made less conspicuous by being covered with a blanket.

And his constant injunction "No smokin', sah," soon won him a sobriquet, Mexicans and cow-boys alike calling him "Smoky."

Elmer was relieved from picket duty in time to prepare an extra supper to which Mayor Bradley, Buck, and Jack Jellup, the town marshal, were invited. It was extra work for "Smoky," who took his new name with a mild protest; but when he called the crew to the meal it was apparent that he harbored no resentment. Jack and Buck took their seats gingerly, but the boys soon made all at home.

"There ain't agoin' to be no pay took fur this day's work," suddenly exclaimed Buck as he finished a generous portion of cold sliced ham and potato salad.

The boys laughed in protest.

"I ain't seen real food in ten years," continued Buck, "and what I said goes. This meal's worth a week's work to me."

"All I got to say, young uns," interrupted Jack Jellup, the marshal, "is that this 'ere town is yours."

Jack's idea of hospitality was an invitation to the boys to visit the town saloons as his guest, but Ned arid Alan laughed and thanked him, pleading weariness as a reason for declining. The final tribute of the three guests, however, before they left, was to push the Placida along with crowbars until it was free of the freight house and stood where the evening breeze could freely find its way through the windows. Then with hearty "buenos noches," ("Good night") and promises to see that every one was on hand early in the morning, they left.

For some time Ned, Alan and Elmer sat in camp chairs on the car platform reveling in the glorious starlit night. From somewhere in the little town came the sound of low singing and a Spanish air played on the mandolin. It was all so different from the life the boys had known that it seemed like a dream. And when their real dreams did come it was of the not far distant Tunit Chas.

CHAPTER IX

"CALIFORNY KID" GETS A JOB

Old Buck's horse-corral had blossomed over night into a modern balloon factory. And the proprietor, with his bronco team, and the superintending Ned and Alan made big gaps the next day in the precious freight of the Placida. By noon the five casks for generating hydrogen, the cooling and purifying box, and the lead pipe and other equipment, had been transferred to the old horse yard. Three tons of iron turnings, forwarded by freight in advance, were found in the keeping of the railroad agent. It took Buck six trips to move this, and that consumed the afternoon.

A special trip was made by the wagon just after luncheon. This was to transport the tool chest--practically two chests, for it was a large one containing both wood and iron-working tools. With it rode the two boys, both in overalls and ready to begin the setting up and adjustment of the generating tanks.

After their arrival at the corral, the rest of the afternoon, in spite of the heat, slipped quickly away. But by night a foundation had been leveled in a corner of the yard and the five barrel-like generators were firmly anch.o.r.ed and connected by lead pipes with the cooling and purifying box.

"Looks purty much like a distillery," commented Buck, who had just made his last trip with the iron shavings, which were now piled close by the casks.

"And is," laughed Ned, "in a way."

But he volunteered no more. In fact the whole matter was a mystery to every one in the town, except Mayor Curt Bradley and Marshal Jack Jellup.

In the morning the first work accomplished was the removal, one at a time, of ten casks of sulphuric acid, each weighing four hundred pounds. It was a delicate job and not unattended with danger in case of a cask breaking. The boys began to realize the need of help of a higher grade than that of the "greasers" who had been thus far their only a.s.sistants except Buck.

Their usual good luck seemed to be with them, however, for just in the middle of the work of sliding a heavy carboy of acid from the wagon a stranger stepped from the group of onlookers, and without words gave a hand to the job.

Alan was about to thank him hurriedly, when the stranger said: "Wot's the game, son? Wot's doin'?"

Alan was at first inclined to resent this "tough" familiarity. Then he realized that the language of the man was in his natural manner of speaking, and he said:

"Who are you and where are you from?"

"Give you one guess," laughed the stranger. "No! Can't tell a 'bo'? Well, just tramp. Wot's dew name? I lost me card case. Me nom de plumb is Kid, Californy Kid. And me address is--well wot's de name o' dis munificent metropolis?"

"Clarkeville, New Mexico," answered Alan smiling.

"Well, den me address is dat. Wot's de nex' inquiry?"

The man was young. His clothing was worn and greasy, his shoes were patched, and those parts of his face and hands that could be seen between smears of coal dust were red from exposure and the sun.

"How do you happen to be here?" continued Alan.

"Well, cul--beg pardon, son--de fact is I lost me purse and de brakeman on de fast freight wouldn't take me check. I was dumped.

And I can't get away exceptin' I walk."

"Then you wouldn't care to work?"

"Will dis beautiful city give me coin and chuck widout work?"

"I'm afraid not," laughed Alan.

"Den' it's work for yours truly," answered the tramp with a sort of cheery humor. "But, say, boss, ye couldn't stake me to a drink and some chuck afore I loosen up me muscles?"

"Your pay will be two dollars a day," said Alan, "but no drinking goes. Here's a note that will get you something to eat." And writing a message to Elmer the tramp was soon hurrying to the car for a meal. A half hour later, with his sleeves rolled up, he returned, riding alongside Buck on the wagon.

Ned had given the new hand little attention.

Now he looked him over and asked:

"What's your real name?"

"Gus, boss; or, spellin' it out, Gustave Lippe. How's dat for a handle--Lippe?"

Ned looked at the young man long and sharply.

"One name, they say, is as good as another out here. But I didn't know tramps got this far west."

"Sure," answered the tramp, "It's long jumps and hard ones. It's me last excursion dis way."

"Well," said Ned slowly, "you can work for us as long as you are not too inquisitive."

"Dat's me, boss. I'm de clam till me two dollars per will git me to de next whistle."

"Then you'd better arrange to board with Buck."

"Dat's me lay, boss, already booked. Now show me some work. Me trunk was checked t'roo and I ain't nuttin' on me mind but me job."

"Well, you had better spend the rest of the afternoon in cleaning up a bit," suggested Ned. "Here's five dollars in advance. Report early in the morning."

"Tank's, boss," said Gus, the tramp. But he took the bill slowly.