The locality was some distance from the center of the city and in a neighborhood filled with factories and saloons. At the corner of the block upon which the packing establishment was located, Robert came to a halt. "I don't believe mother would like me to work in such a place as this," he mused. "The folks may be honest enough, but they don't know the meaning of the word refinement." "Lookin' fer sumthin', mister?" The question came from a very small and very dirty boy who had brushed up against Robert's elbow. "Hardly," answered Robert. "Is that Rogers' packing house over there?" "Yes." "Thank you, that's all I wanted to know." "Goin' in to see Mr. Rogers?" "I was thinking of it." "Better not go now?" "Why?" "He jest came out of O'Grady's saloon and he's more'n half full." "Do you mean drunk?" "Dat's it." "Then I don't think I care to see him." "Does he owe you anything?" went on the street urchin, with a coolness that swallowed up the impertinence of the question. "No, he doesn't owe me anything. He advertised for a clerk and I had a notion I would strike for the situation," answered Robert, who could not help but like the street lad, he had such an open, friendly face. "He had a fight with one o' his clerks day before yesterday, an' the clerk got a black eye." "Indeed. And what did the clerk do?" "I heard dad say he was going to have old Rogers arrested, but Rogers gave him some extry money to keep still about it." "And that is the reason he wants a new clerk, eh?" said Robert, with a short laugh. "Well, I don't think I'll apply." "Couldn't you lick old Rogers if he hit you first?" "I wouldn't want to get into a fight with him." "He's a terror when he's half drunk--my dad says so." "Does he work in the place?" "Yes, he's a butcher." "And did he ever have any trouble?" "Lots of times. Once old Rogers followed my dad with a butcher knife, but dad up and knocked the knife from his hand with a club." "And what did your father do then?" "He was goin' to have old Rogers locked up for salt the battery, or sumt'ing like that, but Rogers he raised dad's wages a dollar a week, an' so dad didn't do nuthin." "Evidently Mr. Rogers thinks money will cover everything," said Robert. "Well, it wouldn't cover everything with me." "I'd like to see old Rogers git one good wallopin'--an' so would all of the boys around here. He won't let none of us around the packing house to see what's going on. He calls us all a set of thieves." "He certainly must be a hard man to work for," concluded Robert. "I don't want to go near him," and with this remark he walked back the way he had come. CHAPTER XVII. ROBERT IS GIVEN A MISSION. "Well, what luck?" asked Livingston Palmer, when he and Robert met again. "No luck at all," answered Robert. "That's bad." "One man said he might have an opening in the near future." "That's all right, but a fellow can't live on promises." "Exactly my idea."