The assistant engineer took Tom and Harry over to a seven by nine tent.
“You’ll bunk in here,” he explained, “and store your dunnage here. There are two folding cots in the tent, as you see. Don’t shake ’em out until it’s time to turn in, and then you’ll have more room in your house. Now, come on over and I’ll show you the mess tent for the engineers.”
This Blaisdell also showed them. There was nothing in the tent but a plain, long table, with folding legs, and a lot of camp chairs of the simplest kind.
“What’s that tent, Mr. Blaisdell?” inquired Harry, pointing to the next one, as they came out of the engineers’ mess.
“Mess tent for the chainmen and rod men laborers, etc.,” replied their guide. “Now, the fellows will be in soon, and supper will be on in half an hour. After you get your dunnage over to your tent amuse yourselves in any way that you care to. I’ll introduce you to the crowd at table.”
Tom and Harry speedily had their scanty dunnage stored in their own tent. Then they sat down on campstools just outside the door.
“Thurston didn’t seem extremely cordial, did he?” asked Hazelton solemnly.
“Well, why should he be cordial?” Tom demanded. “What does he know about us? We’re trying to break in here and make a living, but how does he know that we’re not a pair of merely cheerful idiots?”
“I’ve an idea that Mr. Thurston is always rather cool with his staff,” pursued Harry.
“Do your work, old fellow, in an exceptionally fine way, and I guess you’ll find that he can thaw out. Mr. Thurston is probably just like other men who have to employ folks. When he finds that a man can really do the work that he’s paid to do I imagine that Thurston is well satisfied and not afraid to show it.”