Pressing past him, the foreman faced the blinking engineer sternly.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Faugh!” as he caught a whiff of the engineer’s breath—“at the old trick again, eh?”

“Steam overcame me,” stammered Shallock.

The shop foreman turned to Ben.

“Did you do that?” he inquired in his sharp, crisp way, waving his hand towards the engine.

“I shut off the power—yes, sir,” replied Ben.

[Pg 6]

[Pg 6]

“What was this man doing?”

Ben hesitated and flushed up. He did not wish to tell on anybody, much less a person who disliked him and would be sure to ascribe any “peaching” to spite.

“You needn’t answer,” suddenly spoke the foreman, his keen eye catching sight of the bottle, and picking it up. “Get out of here, you,” he added disgustedly, giving the engineer a shove towards the door.

“Look here, Mr. Dunn——”

“You get!” reiterated the foreman.

Shallock began to snivel.

“See here, you may be sick yourself some time,” he declared in a maudlin tone.

“Sick!” repeated the foreman contemptuously.

“I’ve run my engine two years——”

“It isn’t your engine any more,” observed the foreman. “One of you men go for Pete Doty,” he continued to the group from the molding room. “He’s out of a job, and he can have this one if he qualifies right. That’s all,” added Dunn, with a peremptory wave of his hand.

The signal was understood promptly by all hands to get back to their respective places. Mr. Hardy moved over to the side of Ben. He placed a hand on his son’s head and his eyes were full of emotion.

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