“Is that you, Mr. Charnock? Cold's pretty fierce to-night. How's Mr. Festing?”
Charnock had not felt the cold until then, but he shivered and beat his hands as he replied that Festing was badly hurt. Then he asked: “Are you going out with the loco?”
“Thought I'd finished, but they've wired that the cars are wanted on the next section and I've got to run them along.”
“Ah,” said Charnock. “Have you seen Wilkinson?”
“Met him going to the bunk-house just before you came up.”
Charnock went on, and presently entered the big wooden shed, which was full of tobacco smoke and the smell of hot iron and food. The warmth made him dizzy after the cold outside. A group of men had gathered about the stove, others sat at the dirty table with pipes and newspapers, and a few were quarreling about a game of cards, but Charnock could not see them distinctly.
One or two looked round as he stopped near the door, dazzled by the light. He had pulled off the bandage, and there was a large, dark bruise on his face, which was set. His mouth made a firm line and his eyes glittered. Then the foreman got up.
“Well,” he asked harshly, “what do you want?”
Charnock gave him a careless glance. The fellow was truculent and had bullied Charnock when he worked in his gang, while the latter had sometimes replied to his abuse with witty retorts that left a sting. Afterwards, he had beaten his persecutor badly in the dispute about the borrowed workmen.
“I'm looking for Wilkinson.”