"How did you get here?" asked Custer.
"I fell off the railroad bridge, the current landed me here; where am I, anyhow?"
"At the brick slaughter-house," said Custer.
"I thought so; can't you get some one to help you?"
But Custer, his reasonable curiosity satisfied, was already on his way back to the road. "If only pa has not driven off!" But the senior Shrimplin had not moved from the spot where Custer had left him five minutes before.
"Is that you, son?" he asked, as Custer appeared at the fence.
"Come here, quick!" commanded the boy.
"For what?" inquired Mr. Shrimplin.
"You needn't be afraid, it's only a man who's fallen off the iron bridge. He's down in the bed of the slaughter-house run. I can't get him out alone!"
"I'll bet he's good and drunk!" said the little lamplighter.