CHAPTER IV
INTRODUCED TO THE CREW
"And the next man who puts up only two hundred sheets in a daygets off this car!" concluded Snowden with a wave of the handthat took in every man in the car. "Get in your reports, and getthem in quick, or I'll fire the whole bunch of you now!" heroared, turning and striding to his office, where he jerked thesliding door shut with a bang that shook the car.
"Well, the boss has 'em bad tonight, for sure," exclaimed BillyConley who bore the title of assistant car manager, but who wasno more manager than was Henry, the English porter.
"Hello, who are you?" demanded one of the men, as Phil and Teddystepped in through the rear door of the coach.
"Good evening, boys," greeted Phil easily.
All eyes were turned on the newcomers.
"Howdy, fellows," said Teddy good-naturedly."Fine, large evening."
Everybody laughed.
"Are you the boys who joined out today, from back with the show?"asked Conley.
"Yes. Let me introduce myself. I am Phil Forrest and this, mycompanion, is Teddy Tucker. We're green as grass, and we shallhave to impose upon your good nature to set us straight."
The Circus Boys had won the good opinion of the men of Car Threeat the outset.
"That's the talk," agreed Billy. "Line up here and I'llintroduce you to the bunch. The skinny fellow over there bythe boiler is Chief Rain-in-the-Face. The one next to himis Slivers. The freakish looking gentleman standing at myright is Krao, the Missing Link. On my left is Baby Egawa--"
"Otherwise known as Rosie the Pig," added a voice.
"Everybody on an advance car has a nickname, you know.You'll forget your real names, if you stay on an advancecar long enough. I couldn't remember mine if I didn't geta letter occasionally to remind me of it, and sometimes Ialmost feel as if I was opening another fellow's letterswhen I open my own."
"Glad to know you, boys," smiled Phil. "Do you know where we areto sleep?"
"See that pile of paper up there?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's that or the floor for yours. All the rest of theberths are occupied, unless the Boss is going to let you sleepin the office with him."
"I rather think he will not invite us. He seems to be in a huffabout something tonight," answered Phil dryly, at which there wasa loud laugh.
"What's this Johnnie Bull tells me about a roughhouse in theoffice this afternoon?" demanded Conley suddenly.
"I would rather not talk about that," replied Phil, coloring.
"Come here, you Englishman, and tell us all about it. Our friendis too modest."
The porter did not respond quickly enough to suit the men so theypounced upon him and tossed him to the top of a pile of paper.
"Now, talk up, or its the paste can for yours," they demanded.
Henry rather haltingly described what he had seen in thestateroom that afternoon, describing in detail how Phil hadworsted the manager of the car.
When the recital had been concluded, all hands turned andsurveyed Phil curiously.
"Well, who would have thought it?" wondered Rosie, in anawed voice.
Krao, the Missing Link, and Baby Egawa sidled up to Phil andgingerly felt his arm muscles.
"Woof!" exclaimed the Baby. "Bad medicine! Heap big muscle!"
"That's so. I had forgotten you boys were performers back withthe show," nodded Billy. "What are you up here for--learningthis end of the business?"
"Yes; that is what we are here for," answered Phil."Mr. Sparling wished us to do so."
"You have come to a good place to learn it," emphasized Conley."But you'll have to fight your way through. You have done amighty good job in downing the Boss, but look out for him.He'll never forget it. If he doesn't get you fired, he will geteven with you in some other way."
Phil laughed.
"I'll do my duty. But I am not afraid of him. Are all carmanagers like Mr. Snowden?"
"Most of them. Some better, some worse. They think they are notdoing their duty, earning their meal-tickets, unless they areRoaring Jakes. But Snowden is the worst ever. He has themeanest disposition of any man I ever knew. This is his firstseason on Number Three, and I shouldn't be surprised if it werehis last. I hear Boss Sparling doesn't take to him.Know anything about that?"
Phil shook his head.
"Why do you let him treat you as he does?"
"Let him? Well, I'll tell you confidentially. Most of us havefamilies to support. Some of us have wives; others mothers andsisters to look after. It's put up with the roast or get out.And let me tell you, the Boss isn't slow about closing out afellow he doesn't like. He'll fire you at the drop of the hat."
"I'm hungry; where do we eat?" interrupted Teddy.
"Eat?"
"Sure! Don't you fellows in advance eat?"
"Well, we go through the motions. That's about all I can sayfor it. This living at contract hotels isn't eating; it isn'teven feeding. You folks back with the show don't have to putup with contract hotels; you eat under the cook tent and youget real food."
"What's a contract hotel?" asked Teddy.
Phil looked at his companion in disgust.
"Teddy Tucker, haven't you been in the show business long enoughto know what a contract hotel is?"
Teddy shook his head.
"I'll tell you, I'll explain what a contract hotel is,"said Billy. "The contracting agent goes over the route inthe spring and makes the arrangements for the show. He engagesthe livery rigs to take the men out on the country routes, andwhen he gets through with the livery stable business he hunts upall the almost food places in town until he finds one that willfeed the advance car men for five or ten cents a meal. Then hesigns a contract and goes off to a real hotel for his own meal.Oh, no, Mr. Contracting Agent doesn't get his meals there.Well, we're booked to eat at one of those almost food placesin every town we make. And some of them are not even 'almost.'We are going to one of the kind now. Want to come along?"
"Sure," replied Teddy.
"You won't be so anxious after you have had a week or soof them."
All hands started for the hotel.
"What about your reports? I thought Mr. Snowden told you to getthem in at once," asked Phil after they had left the car.
"Let him wait," growled Billy.
"But he will raise a row when you get back, will he not?"
"He'll roar anyway, so what's the odds? We're used to that."
"A queer business, this advance car work," saidPhil thoughtfully. "I never had any idea that itwas like this. If ever I own or run a show it willbe different--I mean the advance cars will be runon a different principle from this one."
"I hope you do, and that I am working for you," grinned Conley."Here we are."
Billy's description of a contract hotel Phil decided had notbeen overdrawn. All hands filed into the dining room, and Philhad lost most of his appetite before reaching his chair.
A waiter who looked as if he might have been a prizefighter atone time shambled up to them with a soiled napkin thrown overone arm. As it chanced, he approached Teddy first.
"Bean soup! What'll you have," he demanded with a suddennessthat startled the Circus Boy.
Teddy surveyed the waiter with large eyes, then permittedhis gaze to wander about the table to the faces of thegrinning billposters.
"Bean soup. What'll I have?" reflected the lad soberly."Now isn't it funny that I can't think what kind of soupI want. Bean soup; what'll I have?"
The waiter shifted his weight to the other foot, flopped thenapkin to the other arm and stuck out his chin belligerently.
"Bean soup! What'll you have?" he demanded, with a risinginflection in his voice.
"Let me think. Why, I guess I'll take bean soup if it's all thesame to you," decided Tucker, solemn as an owl.
The billposters broke out into a roar of laughter. They fairlyhowled with delight at Teddy's droll manner, but the Circus Boydid not even smile. He looked at them with a
hurt expression inhis eyes until the men were on the point of apologizing to him.
They did not know young Tucker.
The rest of the meal passed off without incident.
"Well, what did you think of the contract hotel?" questionedConley, as they were strolling back to the car.
"I think I shall starve to death in a week, if I have to eatin that sort of a place," answered Teddy. "Why didn't thecontracting agent sign us up with a livery stable? I'd asight rather feed there than at a contract hotel if they areall like this."
"Yes, the food is at least clean in a livery stable,"laughed Phil. "But we shall get along all right. If we gettoo hungry we can go out and buy our own meals now and then.Do you ever do that, Mr. Conley?"
"I should say we do. We have to, or we shouldn't have anystomachs left. Now, you want to know something about this carwork, don't you?"
"I should like to very much, if you can spare the time to tell meabout it."
"Wait till I get my report made out, then we'll have a nice longtalk, and I will tell you all about it."
"There is Mr. Snowden waiting for you."
"Never mind him. His bite isn't half so bad as his bark."
The men piled into the car, whereupon Manager Snowden unloosedthe vials of his wrath because their reports were not in. To histirade no one gave the slightest heed. The men went methodicallyto work, writing out their reports to which they signed theirnames, folded the papers, and tossed them on the manager's deskwithout a word of explanation.
For a few moments there was silence in the office while themanager was going over the reports. All at once there wasa roar.
"Pig! Come here!"
Rosie got down from the pile of paper on which he had beensitting, taking his time about doing so, and, wearing a broadgrin, strolled to the office at the other end of the car.
"What's the trouble now?" demanded Rosie.
"Trouble? Trouble? That's the word. It's trouble all the time.Where are your brains?"
"In my head, I suppose," grinned Rosie.
"No!" thundered the manager. "They're in your feet. All youknow how to do is to kick. You're a woodenhead; you'reno good."
Rosie accepted the tirade with a quiet smile.
"If you will tell me what it is all about I may be ableto explain."
"Look at those billboard tickets!"
"What's the matter with them?"
"Matter? Matter?"
"Yes, that's what I asked."
"They're torn off crooked."
"Well, what of that?"
"What of that? Why, you woodenhead, when those tickets arepresented at the door when the show comes around, the tickettakers won't accept them. Then there will be a howl that you canhear all across the state of Minnesota. How many times have Itold you to be careful?"
"The tickets are all right," growled Rosie, now a little nettled.
"What! What! You dare contradict me? I'll fire youSaturday night! I'd fire you now only I am short of money.Get out of here! Come back!"
Rosie turned dutifully, but with a weary expression on his face.
"I fine you eleven dollars and fifty cents. That's about whatthe tickets will come to. Now go. Send Rain-in-the-Face here!"
The interview with Rain-in-the-Face sounded not unlike a seriesof explosions to those out in the main compartment of the car.Every face wore a grin, and each man expected it would be histurn next.
"Come on, let's go outside and talk," said Conley.
"I should think you _would_ want to get away from it all,"answered Phil. "I don't know; whether I can stand thissort of thing or not."
"You'll get used to it after awhile."
"Something's going to happen," croaked the Missing Link,dismally, as the two left the car by the rear door.
"I guess the freak is right," nodded Billy Conley. "There isgoing to be an explosion here that will shake the state."
There was, but not exactly in the way he imagined.