The sound of hammering was to be heard in the roundhouse. Another engine ran in on the table outside, and some wipers swung it round. Then the engine ran out again upon the tracks, instead of backing into the house.
Old Slugs, his face patched up with plaster, came back and went to work on the engine he had been cleaning. He moved slowly, as if he felt sore in every limb.
The foreman smiled the least bit as he watched the man. He nodded his head, and there was an expression of satisfaction on his dark face. Then he turned to Frank Merriwell.
“A fellow who could whip Martin Hall should have grit enough for anything,” he said. “Come back to-morrow morning, prepared for work. You shall have a job.”
CHAPTER XVI.
THE FIRST FORENOON.
The following morning Frank Merriwell appeared at the roundhouse in overalls and jumper, ready for work. His working clothes were new and clean, in contrast to the clothes of the other wipers, who stared at him, grinned and made comments on his “dudish” appearance. Although Frank could hear nearly every word spoken, he paid not the slightest attention to anything the men said. He was there to work, and he waited for the foreman to appear and tell him what he was to do.
“He’ll leave quick,” declared one of the wipers.
“It’s two to one he’ll quit before noon,” said another.
“You’d win,” chuckled a third.