At the words, Higgins sprang around again, purple with rage.
“Report me!” he shouted. “Why, you young whipper-snapper, I’ll spoil that putty face o’ your’n,” and he raised his fist.
“Hello, here,” called a voice from the door. “What’s the trouble?” and Allan glanced past the irate conductor to see the engineer standing in the doorway. “What’s up, Bill?” he repeated, coming in. “What’s the kid done?”
“Threatened to report me if I don’t read this here order to him,” answered Higgins sullenly.
The engineer glanced sharply from one to the other.
“Is that all?” he said. “And you were going to fight about a little thing like that, Bill?”
“No kid shall report me!” growled Bill, but he looked a little foolish.
“Well, then, read the order,” advised the engineer, easily.
Bill hesitated an instant, then smoothed out the crumpled paper.
“’Hold extra east, engine 632, at Byers,’” he snapped out, and handed the engineer his copy.