Ralph at last understood the situation, but he saw the futility of attempting to convince his obstinate companion of his error.
Besides, the foreman in the distance was watching him from the corner of one eye, and Ike thought it best to apply himself to business.
"You just watch me for an hour or two," he bolted out grudgingly.
Ralph did not spend a happy forenoon. Ike was sullen, grumpy and savage.
He made his helper hold the grease pail when it was unnecessary, till Ralph's arms were stiff, dropping splotches of oil on his shoes. He let the exhaust deluge him, as if by accident, and refused to engage in any general conversation, nursing his wrath the meantime.
He knew how to clean up an engine, although, Ralph divined, in the most slipshod and easiest way that would pass inspection. Ralph was learning something, however, and was patient under the slights Ike put upon him from time to time.
About eleven o'clock there was a lull in active work.
Mr. Ike Slump lounged on the bench, indulging in a smoke and trying to look important and dangerous, both at once. Then, as if casually, he began kneading a fat, juicy ball of waste and grease, poked it under the bench, and said to Ralph:
"There's two switch engines coming in. You can take one of them, and see if you know how to handle it."
"I'll try," announced Ralph.