"I may be on the job alone to-morrow, though," replied Nelson, "and just yet I don't know the first thing about it."
Neither Willis nor Watson advised him against the wisdom of learning things when he had a chance, so he stayed. No doubt they knew how it felt to be up against a new post in the middle of a day, with everyone too busy to lend a hand, or even a suggestion. The perspiration that has been lost under those circumstances would make quite a stream.
Bill had a bad balance. He worked till ten o'clock, taking half an hour off to eat supper. Evan stuck to it, too. When he got to his hotel he had nervous indigestion and a violent headache. He took quinine and went to bed, more or less disgusted with life. When the drug began to work and the pain of his head was soothed, a peaceful lethargy crept over him, and he wished that he might lie in such repose forever. He dreaded thought of the days to come, for he had had a glimpse of sedentary slavery.
"Oh, pshaw!" he murmured, and ebbed out into Dreamland.
The next morning he awakened late, and did not wait for breakfast. He was the last man to work.
"We begin operations here at nine, Nelson," said Castle, as the new man walked past him.
Evan stopped and looked back, but said nothing. He was not in a humor to explain his semi-sickness to one like Alfred Castle.
"We were waiting for you," said Key; "jump in, old man."
Although he had little idea where he should jump, Evan plunged, like a reckless diver, and fought his way through the previous day's work as best he could. Bill took advantage of a strip of smooth sailing to steal away and have a smoke in the basement. Soon Key found Evan hesitating over the work, and hollered impatiently:
"Hang that man Watson, where is he?"