In the cook tent they found one long table filled up with big, black, sweating negroes. At the other smaller one were seated the teamster—a white man—and the two sleepy-eyed engineers, off duty. The food was plenty, but coarse and cheap in quality. Hungry as they were, the boys partook of it meagerly, for they could not forget that dirty bench outside, and the inside was foul from the sweating negroes crowded into it. One thing they all noticed was the sullen silence that prevailed. Even the white men at their own table had nothing to say, except to ask occasionally for the passing of some dish they could not reach. The boys were glad when the meal was at last finished and they were able to get out again into the sweet, sun-purified air. Mr. Murphy remained behind for a few minutes, arguing loudly with the two engineers.
"I don't like the looks of this outfit very much," said Walter, as the four gathered together at the base of a pine tree. "The whole camp is filthy—tents, cooking, men, and everything else. And everyone appears so sullen and ugly, as though a little thing would start a fight going. Of course, the price is dirt cheap, but I don't like the looks of things."
"We can alter things in short order," Charley declared eagerly, for he was letting his eagerness to seize this new opportunity cloud his usually clear judgment. "Why, it won't take any time to change things around. We can stop the machine for a day, and turn all hands in on the job, make them scrub the tents good with soap and water, and, after they are dry, pitch them all again in a different place. A change of cooks, and Sunday to rest up in, will take away a lot of that sullenness, I bet. I really believe that half of it is caused by Murphy cursing the men so much."
"Maybe you're right," Walter admitted. "Anyway, I would like to learn to run that steam shovel. I bet I could do it in a week."
"I don't ever want to have to climb aboard that critter," Captain Westfield observed; "but I reckon I could stay on the ground and keep the other fellows up to scratch. I ain't nowise anxious to go into the business, but I leave it up to you, Charley. I've never had much to do with shore business. Just do as you think best, boy."
"I leave it up to you, too, so far as I'm concerned," Walter agreed.
"I hopes you-alls do buy it," Chris said, earnestly; "I sho' wants to do de cookin'; dat dirty nigger what's doing it now ain't fitting to do hit, no way."
"All right," Charley agreed, reluctantly. "If it's left up to me to do the deciding, I'll do it, though I had rather not take all the responsibility. Well, I'm going to buy——"
He had no time to continue what he was going to say, for at that moment Mr. Murphy stepped out of the tent and called to them. "Come around here to the next tent; that's where my motor truck is housed."
Walter examined the motor truck carefully. It was almost new, but it was evident that it had received rough treatment at the hands of inexperienced drivers, but its main parts were still good and unworn.