Much to Case’s delight, the engine drew up in front of the sidetracked car, and the conductor came running down from the caboose, swinging a lantern in his hand. He threw a volley of ugly words at Alex and stepped up to where Case stood, leaning over the railing of the Rambler.
“Does that kid belong with you?” he demanded, flinging his lantern out in the direction of Alex. “He might have been killed, making a catch like that. Where is the boss of this outfit?”
“We are all bosses,” replied Case, not at all pleased with the abrupt manners of the conductor.
“Humph! A mess of boys! Well, get a move on, here, and let us hitch you on. We’ve lost time enough now.”
“You needn’t lose any more on our account,” Case replied, provokingly. “Get busy just as soon as you like. In other words, ‘Fire, Gridley, as soon as you are ready,’” he added, with a grin, repeating the words of Dewey at Manila bay.
“I’d like to have the firing of you!” exclaimed the exasperated conductor. “Here, boys,” he added, addressing a group of men who came up from the caboose, “get the jacks under the car and put in two new wheels. We’ve got to haul her down to Donald.”
There was then a great flashing of lanterns, a clashing of tongues, and a groaning of steel screws as the jacks lifted the rear end of the car high in the air. Clay and Alex dived into the cabin to straighten out possible entanglements there and were amazed at coming upon a slender stranger busy at the pancake griddle. They both stopped in the middle of the room, which was not a very large one, and looked the questions they were too breathless to ask.
“I was told to warm up the coffee,” the boy said, “and I thought I’d cook some more cakes. I’ve eaten all you cooked for supper, and all the bacon, too. I was hungry.”
“I should say so,” Alex responded. “There was enough cakes for six harvest hands.”
“I’m sorry,” the slender boy said, apologetically, “and I’ll make it right.”