Ike Slump was as quickly thrust out. He was blubbering, limp, and smarting with pain.
Forgan was red-faced and panting from his exertions.
"Now then," he said, "you get to work, or get out and home to your father, just as you like."
"He'll kill me if I do!" came from Ike.
"He ought to. Hustle there, now!"
Ike went to the bench, picked up the grease pail, and climbed to the cabin of the other switch engine.
He cast an angry glance at Ralph.
"Played it smart, didn't you!" he snarled.
"You shouldn't complain," answered Ralph calmly.
"Wait till to-night!"
"I'm waiting," tranquilly rejoined Ralph, poising back to view about as fine a shimmer to the bell he was working on as oil and waste and elbow grease could produce.
Meantime, Ike had blindly, savagely slapped a coat of grease on the bell opposite.
A yell went up from his wrathful lips as he applied the waste.
He nearly had a fit and if he could have found a loose missile he would doubtless have thrown it at Ralph.
