At the sight of his battered and jaded crew, who in no wise appeared fit for the day’s work before them, Burton swore savagely and with great bitterness of tongue bade them get to their work. Then he turned in his ill-humor to Munford, who was still standing beside him. “Who the devil are you? What you doin’ here? Where d’ye come from?” The questions came quick and sharp like a volley of small arms. Munford eyed the wiry little chunk of a man, scarcely up to his own shoulders, in silence, taking him in from head to foot. “Well,” snapped Burton, “speak up!” “Munford’s my name,” said Munford, coolly. “I’m here for a job. Where I come from ain’t none of your blamed business, is it?” “Ain’t it?” said Burton. “Well, then, you can walk back there, my bucko!” and he turned on his heel and followed the men to their work. Munford sat down on the doorsill of the camp shanty and with a laugh pulled out his pipe and began to smoke. He was still sitting there a half-hour later when the foreman came back. “If you’ve got far to go,” grinned Burton, “you’d better get started.” “No hurry,” replied Munford, imperturbably. “You’re a queer card,” said Burton, after a moment. “What’s this about the trouble down at Big Cloud last night the boys are so full of they can’t do anything besides talk?” Munford chuckled quietly. “Nothin’ much,” said he. “Nothing much, eh? They say you put the ‘Golden Luck’ and Pete McGonigle to the bad, and then cleaned out every dive in town. You’re quite a reformer, ain’t you? I’ll tell you this, though, it won’t be healthy for you around these parts from now on.” “Oh, I don’t know,” said Munford. “Say, how about that job?” Burton laughed. “You’ve got a sweet nerve to ask for a job, and you responsible for a gang that won’t be able to do a day’s work among the lot of them between now and night. Did up McGonigle’s, eh? Well, I don’t know, I reckon in the long run that’ll be worth more to the company than the day’s work. All right, sport, you can go to work--until Pete and his crowd scare you out, which I predict won’t be long. And while you’re here, if you get itchy for trouble don’t look for it among the men, come to _me._” “Well, I’ll--” gasped Munford. “Why, I could twist you like--” Then he laughed in pure delight at Burton’s spunk “Oh, sure! _Sure_, I will.” It took Munford no longer than a day to get the hang of the work. He was already more than a demigod in the eyes of Bridge Gang No. 3, and that counted for much. They were eager and ready to show him what they knew themselves, whereas the ignorance and rawness of any other newcomer would have been turned to good account in the shape of gibes and jests at his expense. In two days, from a natural adaptability coupled with his great strength, that was the strength of two men, Munford had fitted into place with the same nicety that one part of a well designed machine fits into another.