Foley beckoned to him.
"Put those two boys in number seven pit."
"Easy or light?" grinned Watski.
"Easy or light, you mutton-head. That don't mean anything. I know what you are getting at, but I'll have you understand that these young gentlemen are friends of mine. Give them the best you have in the house."
The words had apparently been spoken in all sincerity, but Watski grinned knowingly.
"I'll make the children happy, Mr. Foley. Do they begin this morning?"
"Yes; start them off now. I'll be around later in the day to help carry out the remains."
Watski chuckled. He walked over to where Bob and Steve stood waiting for orders to go to work, surveying them from his beady, red eyes; beady because nature had made them so, red from the heat and the cinders of years in the mills.
"What's your name?" he snapped.