ss," confessed he,
frankly. "You fellows who do will have to tell me."

The answer struck the right note with the men.

"How could you be expected to know, sonny?" called a red-faced Swede
kindly. "Every boy who comes into the tannery has to learn."

"Pitch a few skins out of the car, lad, while I tell you some things,"
broke in Carmachel. "You are unloading calfskins; that's the only kind
we tan at Factory 1. Over at Factory 2 they tan sheepskins, and at
Factory 3 cowhides. In each of these factories the skins are treated and
prepared for the trade quite differently, as you will learn by and by if
you have the chance to go through the other buildings. These calfskins
that we are unloading came from the Chicago slaughter-houses, where as
soon as they were taken off the animals they were salted; folded with
the head, tail, and small parts inside; tied in bales such as you see;
and shipped. They are what we call green-salted. We also get
green-salted skins from the abattoirs of the city of Paris, and from
lots of other places, too. Sometimes, though, skins are salted green and
are then dried like those you saw piled up in the shed; those we call
dry-salted. They came from Norway, Sweden, and South America. Then we
have dry hides which are dried without being salted at all. Remember
now--green-salted, dry-salted, and dry."

Peter repeated the terms.

At the same time he did his share in tossing the heavy bales of moist
skins to the platform. It was strenuous work. Before an hour was up his
back and arms ached with the unaccustomed exercise. Tennis and football
were as nothing to this! Still he went on uncomplainingly. His
unflagging energy appealed to the men.

"Knock off, lad, and rest a bit," called Carmachel at last. "You're not
toughened to this job as we are. It's a precious lame back you'll have
to-morrow if you keep at it like this the first time."

Gratefully Peter straightened up and took a long breath. Then he glanced
at his hands.

"You'll be losing your gentlemanly white hands, if that's what's
worrying you," grinned Carmachel, reading his thoughts with
disconcerting keenness.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of my hands," replied Peter, mortified at being
detected in such a foolish reflection. "I was just thinking that they
are beginning to look the part."

"If you are aiming to work up through the tannery they'll likely look
the part more by the time you've got a few coats of lime and blacking on
them," was