"For a fact!"
"Oh, well—there's something beyond."
"When you get out of the oil and cinders, and up into the sand and steam."
"Huh! lots of chance. I've been here six months, and I haven't had a smell of firing yet—even second best."
Ralph again nodded, and again started on. He did not care to have anything to do with Ike Slump. The latter belonged to the hoodlum gang of Stanley Junction, and whenever his crowd had met the better juvenile element, there had always been trouble.
Ike's ferret face worked queerly as he noted Ralph's departure. He seemed struggling with uneasy emotions, as if one or two troublesome thoughts bothered him.
"Hold on, Fairbanks!" he called, edging farther over the sill. "I say, that dinner pail—"
"Oh, I'm not interested in your dinner pail," observed Ralph.
"Course not—what is there to be curious about? I say, though, was you in earnest about getting a job here?"
"I must get work somewhere."
"And it will be railroading?"