For a time he watched it, then with a file he brushed away the black scar, leaving the casting perfect, ready to take its place in a splendid chummy roadster.
A chummy roadster! For a moment, at thought of it, Johnny’s mind left the mystery. It was to be his chummy roadster, and was to cost him only a small fraction of what it would cost on the market, for was he not of the salvage department? And had not the head of that department given him permission to salvage a part here, another part there, and another there, a few in the foundry, in the forge room, in the electrical repair shop, here and there all over the factory, until he had all the parts to make a complete car, and was he not to pay for the car just what the total value of the whole number of parts would have been if they had been thrown upon the scrap pile?
A chummy roadster! It was the only bright spot that had come upon his horizon since he had returned home at the call of a telegram, and had arrived to find his home draped in black, with noiseless footsteps passing to and fro. His father, the father who had been his boyhood chum, had left him for other lands. He had left, too, through no fault of his, a debt unpaid and no estate from which to pay it.
To Johnny Thompson, who had had many adventures but had saved no money, whose soul was a soul of honor, this situation called for but one thing: Adventures for him must cease. He must settle down to hard work and clear off the debt which clouded the family’s good name.
Dearly as he loved adventure, much as he longed to be away to some untried wilderness of Russia, Africa, South America, he had set his teeth tight and had said:
“It is my duty and I will.”
For a half hour he had permitted his mind to dwell upon his thrilling experiences in Russia with the “Reds”; in Alaska with Hanada; beneath the Chicago river with Cio Cio San; with Panther Eye and the wild beasts of the jungle. All these adventures he had dreamed through once more, then he had resolutely turned his back upon them and had gone forth in search of work.
Work was not easy to find. Times were dull. At last after five days of fruitless search, through the kindness of an old friend of his father he had secured a place in the salvage department of a great automobile and airplane factory. This department took parts that had been badly forged, or badly cast, and attempted to make them perfect, to put them back into the line of construction.
“Cutting costs,” the aged manager had told him. “That’s what we’re after these days. Can’t afford to waste a move. And if you can help us do that you’ll soon be a valuable man.”
“Not much chance for adventure in sorting rusty castings, I guess,” Johnny had smiled, “but I’ll take the job; glad to. Thanks!”