“Say,” observed Ned suddenly, “I wonder what that fellow wants?”
He indicated, as he spoke, a man who had just paced by them. He was a stalwart figure, though rather thickset, and round his neck was a dirty towel, proclaiming that he belonged in the fire-room regions.
“Oh, just some lubberly fireman. Why does he interest you particularly?”
“Why, he’s been past us two or three times since we’ve been standing here, and each time he has given us the greatest sizing up. I thought at first he might know us.”
At this moment the fireman turned, having reached the limit of the superstructure, and came back toward them.
“Ever see him before?” asked Ned.
“Never,” rejoined Herc positively.
“Neither have I—of that I’m certain. I don’t like his looks much.”
“Well, thank goodness, we don’t come much in contact with that collection of lubberly ash-hoisters to which he belongs,” grinned Herc.
As usual, the red-headed lad spoke rather louder than he had intended. Just then a sudden lull came in the clatter and uproar of the last moments, and Herc’s words were distinctly heard by the other. He favored the two as he passed with a distinct scowl.