"So you came off at twelve, eh?"
"I did. But how's that your business?"
"Perhaps it may be my business. At least, I am going to make it my business."
"See here, young feller, be you trying to pick a row with me?"
"No; one doesn't have to pick a quarrel with you. You're always quarreling. If I wanted to have a fight with you all I should have to do would be to look at you and the fight would be on. I'm looking at you now, Smith."
The stoker uttered a half-suppressed growl of anger, started toward the Iron Boy, then halted, opening and closing his fingers nervously.
"I'll—I'll——"
"Out with it. You will feel better after you have said it," urged Steve in an encouraging voice.
"I'll break your blasted head for you——"