The young men at the doors of factories looked at his blue
eyes and let him pass unchallenged.
In the afternoon of his first day of seeking Beaut got a place in an
apple warehouse on the North Side, the third place offered him during
the day and the one that he accepted. The chance came to him through
an exhibition of strength. Two men, old and bent, struggled to get a
barrel of apples from the sidewalk up to a platform that ran waist
high along the front of the warehouse. The barrel had rolled to the
sidewalk from a truck standing in the gutter. The driver of the truck
stood with his hands on his hips, laughing. A German with blond hair
stood upon the platform swearing in broken English. McGregor stood
upon the sidewalk and looked at the two men who were struggling with
the barrel. A feeling of immense contempt for their feebleness shone
in his eyes. Pushing them aside he grasped the barrel and with a great
heave sent it up onto the platform and spinning through an open
doorway into the receiving room of the warehouse. The two workmen
stood on the sidewalk smiling sheepishly. Across the street a group of
city firemen who lounged in the sun before an engine house clapped
their hands. The truck driver turned and prepared to send another
barrel along the plank extending from the truck across the sidewalk to
the warehouse platform.
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