This was not surprising, for
both were good, sane, wholesome American boys, with no more than the
average share of conceit, and neither believed himself to be as much of
a wonder as some experienced railroad men credited them with being.
"Stranger, excuse me, but you're Reade, aren't you?" inquired one of the
men of Paloma who was present.
"Yes, sir," nodded Tom, looking up pleasantly from the weekly paper that
he had been scanning.
"You're head of the new job on the Man-killer, aren't you?" questioned
the same man. By this time every man in the barber shop was secretly
watching the young engineers, a fact that was plain to Harry Hazelton,
as he glanced up from a magazine.
"Yee, sir," Tom answered again. "In a way I'm at the head of it, but my
friend, Hazelton, is really as much at the head as I am. We are
partners, and we work together in everything."
"Do you think, Reade, that you're going to win out on the job?" inquired
another man.
"Yes, sir," nodded Tom.
"You seem very confident about it," smiled another.
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