"I am Mr. Leslie, yes," corrected the superintendent, his stern brow contracted in a frown.
"They told me I'd find you here. My name's Wacker. Knew your cousin down at Rochelle; we worked on the same desk in the freight house. Had many a drink with Ted Leslie."
"What do you want?" challenged the superintendent, turning on his heel.
"Why, it's this way," explained the dauntless Lem: "I'm an old railroader and a handy man of experience, I am, and I wanted to make a proposition to you. You see—"
Bart lost the remainder of Mr. Lem Wacker's proposition, for Mr. Leslie had started forward impatiently, with Lem persistently following in his wake. He was still keeping up the pursuit and importuning the affronted official as both were lost to view behind a track of freights.
Bart of course surmised that Lem Wacker was on the trail of the "better job" he had announced he was after to the old switchman, Evans.
"I don't think he has made a very promising impression," decided Bart, as he got back to his writing.
"Say, you!"
Bart looked up a trifle startled at the sharp hail, ten minutes later. He had been engrossed in his work and had not noticed an intruder.
Lem Wacker stood just in the doorway. He looked flushed, excited and vicious.