The hogshead in which Ralph had ensconced himself was made of loose, defective staves. He found himself facing an aperture, through which he could look quite readily.
Two persons entered the room. One was Ike Slump. The other Ralph recognized as the second-hand dealer, Cohen. The latter carried a lamp, which he placed on a shelf. He closed the door after him, and sat down on a box. Ralph's range of vision was immediately impeded. Ike had lifted himself to the edge of the hogshead and perched there, his feet dangling and beating a tattoo on the staves with his heels.
"Now then, Slump," were Cohen's first words, "you're bound to leave?"
"Haven't I got to?" demanded Ike testily. "I'm in a nice box, I am--lost my job, don't dare to go home, and no money."
"I gave you some."
"A measly ten dollars in a week, not a fiftieth part of what I brought in. See here, Cohen, you haven't given me a fair deal. I've taken all the risk, and what have I got?"
"The risk? the risk?" repeated Cohen. "My young friend, it's me who takes all the risk. Suppose the railroad men should drop in here and find the stuff? Where would I be? As to money, will anybody else you know touch the stuff?"
"Well, I've got to get some funds, I'm going to slope the town for good," announced Ike. "Now, there'll be no slip up if I carry out your plans?"
"Not a bit of it," answered Cohen. "I have no facilities here for handling railroad junk. Jacobs, at Dover, has. I don't dare to ship it by rail. He has his own melters. I furnish the horse and wagon. We'll load you up, and cover the boxes with vegetables. All you've got to do is to drive out of town and deliver the goods at Dover. You say your friend, the tramp, will go with you?"
"Yes, but what about the team? I won't come back, you know. I'm going West for a spell."