“There isn't much in that batch. I had to figure close to get the work. Keep the men moving.”
“They are about done. I'll put the painters on the job to-morrow.”
“That's good.”
McClintock went over to the water-cooler in the corner and filled a stemless tumbler with ice-water.
“We'll be ready to send them up to Buckhorn the last of next week. Is there anything else in sight?”
He gulped down the water at a single swallow. “No, not at present, but there are one or two pretty fair orders coming in next month that I was lucky enough to pick up in Chicago. Isn't there any work of our own we can go at while things are slack?”
“Lots of it,” wiping his hands on the legs of his greasy overalls. “All our day coaches need paint, and some want new upholstery.”
“We'd better go at that, then.”
“All right. I'll take a look at the cars in the yards, and see what I can put out in place of those we call in. There's no use talking, Mr. Oakley, you've done big things for the shops,” he added.
“Well, I am getting some work for them, and while there isn't much profit in it, perhaps, it's a great deal better than being idle.”