"What does he
know about us? We're trying to break in here and make a living,
but how does he know that we're not a pair of merely cheerful
idiots?"

"I've an idea that Mr. Thurston is always rather cool with his
staff," pursued Harry.

"Do your work, old fellow, in an exceptionally fine way, and I
guess you'll find that he can thaw out. Mr. Thurston is probably
just like other men who have to employ folks. When he finds that
a man can really do the work that he's paid to do I imagine that
Thurston is well satisfied and not afraid to show it."

"What's that noise?" demanded Harry, trying to peer around the
corner of their tent without rising.

"The field gang coming in, I think," answered Tom.

"Let's get up, then, and have a look at our future mates," suggested
Harry Hazelton.

"No; I don't believe it would be a good plan," said Tom. "We might
be thought fresh if we betrayed too much curiosity before the
crowd shows some curiosity about us."

"Reade!" sounded Blaisdell's voice, five minutes later. "Bring
your friend over and inspect this choice lot of criminals."

Tom rose eagerly, followed by Harry. As they left the tent and
hurried outside they beheld two rows of men, each before a long
bench on which stood agate wash basins. The toilet preceding
the evening meal was on.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Blaisdell, as the two chums drew near, "I present
two new candidates for fame. One is named Reade, the other Hazelton.
Take them to your hearts, but don't, at first, teach them all
the wickedness you know. Reade, this is Jack Rutter, the spotted
hyena of the camp. If he ever gets in your way just push him
over a cliff."

A pleasant-faced young man in khaki hastily dried his face and
hands on a towel, then smilingly held out his right hand.

"Glad to know you, Reade," he laughed. Hope you'll like us and
decide to stay."

"Hazelton," continued the announcer, "shake hands with Slim Morris,
whether he'll let you or not. And here's Matt Rice. We usually
call him 'Mister' Rice, for he's extremely talented. He knows
how to play the banjo."

The assistant engineer then turned away, while one young man,
at the farther end of the long wash bench stood unpresented.

"Oh, on second thoughts," continued Blaisdell, "I'll introduce
you to Joe Grant."

The last young man came forward.

"Joe used to be a good fellow---once," added the assistant engineer.
"In these days, however, you want to keep your dunnage bo