Kipps appeared to be a good-natured man, and Deck declined to take a seat on the bench with him simply because it would place him where he could not see the signal when his father made it. The man did not seem to be so intent upon driving in the heads of the spikes in the planks as he had been, and perhaps he thought he had worked hard enough to entitle him to a rest.
"Jest come and take a seat here, Deck Lyons; you look all worn out, and you need a little rest," said Kipps, as Deck placed himself at the end of the fence.
"I'm not all worn out, and I think I can stand it to keep on my feet a while longer," replied the signalman.
"Well, you must git tired luggin' them things round all day," persisted the mechanic.
"Why, that shooter on your back, and that broadsword a-danglin' agin your shins."
"They are not very heavy, and not so much of a load as your sledge-hammer and adze."
"I'm used to kerryin' them; but I'll bet a day's pay that gun on your back is heavier'n my hammer."
"I don't bet, but my carbine is lighter than your sledge," replied Deck; and it seemed to him as though the workman was trying to accomplish some object, though he could not make out what it was. "Besides, I don't have to lug my arms without any help, for I am generally on horse-back."
"Have you seen Tom Lobkill about here in your travels on this bridge?" asked Kipps, suddenly changing the subject of the conversation.