Inside was a grimy, greasy fellow marking something on a card tacked to the wall. Ralph told him who he was, got both receptacles filled, and went back to the roundhouse.
He sat down on a bench and watched a fireman go through the finishing touches on his engine which put it "to sleep." The last whistle sounded, and in through the doorway came Ike Slump.
The latter was a wiry, elfish fellow, usually very volatile and active. On this especial morning, however, he looked ugly, depressed and wicked. He went over to his locker, threw in his dinner pail, put on a pair of overalls, and for the first time observed Ralph.
"Hello!" he ejaculated, taking a step backward, hunching his shoulders, showing his teeth, and lurching forward much with the pose of a prize fighter descending on an easy victim.
"Good-morning, Ike," said Ralph pleasantly.
Ike Slump indulged in a vicious snarl.
"Morning nothing!" he snapped. "What you doing here?"
"I'm going to work here."
"Who says so?"
"The foreman."