Ike stood staring fixedly at Glen at the moment. The latter in rearranging his disordered attire for the first time had removed the broad peaked cap he wore. The instant he caught Ike’s piercing glance fixed upon him, Glen flushed and in great haste replaced the cap, quite screening his face and turned away.
“Aha!” resumed Ike, continuing to stare at Glen. “Why, when, where--drat me!” and he struck his head with his hand, as if trying to drive out some puzzling idea. “Say, I’ve seen you before. Where? I never forget faces. Wallop me! but I know you, and--”
Just then Slump was walloped. The flagman at the shanty one hundred feet away had evidently witnessed the tussle between the two boys. That he was a friend to Glen was indisputable, for coming upon the scene from between two lines of freight he pounced on Slump, whacking him smartly about his legs with his flag stick.
“You pestering loafer, out of here,” he shouted, “or I’ll break every bone in your body,” and Slump ran down the track precipitately.
He paused only once, at a safe distance from pursuit. It was to shake his fist at the watchman, then to wave it in a kind of threatening triumph at Ralph, and then to make a speaking trumpet of his hand and to yell through it.
“I know that boy, don’t you forget it, and I’ll see you later.”
Ralph wondered a good deal at this demonstration. Then he turned to Glen.
“Why,” he exclaimed, noticing that the face of the latter was as white as chalk and that he was trembling all over. “What’s the matter, Glen?”
“I--that--is that fellow upset me,” stammered Glen, failing to meet Ralph’s scrutinizing glance.
“Something more than that, Glen,” insisted Ralph. “You act half scared to death. Do you know Ike Slump?”