At a window in the upper part of the warehouse
a grey head protruded and a sharp voice called down to the tall
German. "Hey Frank, hire that 'husky' and let about six of the dead
ones you've got around here go home."
McGregor jumped upon the platform and walked in at the warehouse door.
The German followed, inventorying the size of the red-haired giant
with something like disapproval. His look seemed to say, "I like
strong fellows but you're too strong." He took the discomfiture of the
two feeble workmen on the sidewalk as in some way reflecting upon
himself. The two men stood in the receiving room and looked at each
other. A bystander might have thought them preparing to fight.
And then a freight elevator came slowly down from the upper part of
the warehouse and from it jumped a small grey-haired man with a yard
stick in his hand. He had a sharp restless eye and a short stubby grey
beard. Striking the floor with a bound he began to talk. "We pay two
dollars for nine hours' work here--begin at seven, quit at five. Will
you come?" Without waiting for an answer he turned to the German.
"Tell those two old 'rummies' to get their time and get out of here,"
he said, turning again and looking expectantly at McGregor.
McGregor liked the quick little man and grinned with approval of his
decisiveness.
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