The crowd of men going in at the summons of the hooter was not so large as on other days. So many of the workmen were keeping Saint Monday after drinking hard on Saturday and Sunday, and of those who came some looked sleepy and muddled as if, they, too, had been having too much.
But Dick was not in a critical mood. Everything looked strange and delightful to the eager boy, and even the dirty work he was ordered to do seemed pleasant because there were engines everywhere, and mysteries of cogs and wheels that he would be able to find out, as the days went by.
The all-pervading smell of oil and grease reminded him of Paddy's boiler-house, and he resolved to spend his first evening in writing to him.
There were three other boys in the shed, all older than himself, and half-a-dozen men, and Dick was fairly bewildered by the orders they gave him.
As a new hand and the youngest it was quite evident he would be expected to fag for all, and long before night his back and legs were very tired.
But Mrs. Garth had a good tea all ready, and Pat, who had been disconsolate all day, nearly wagged off his short tail for joy when he got home.
And then he wrote a letter.
"DEAR PADDY,
"We got to Ironboro' quite safely, after a lot of ups and downs on the road. Pat was nearly lost, so many people wanted to steal, or beg, or buy him, and no wonder.
"My uncle Richard is gone to Klondyke, and I am going to write him a letter.