“Say!” suddenly bawled a voice in his ear, “air ye goin’ t’ sleep on yer feet? Wake up, an’ git a move!” and a heavy hand struck him a hard blow on the shoulder. Reddy turned with a start, and the dish he was wiping slipped from his hands to the floor. Of course it did not break, as it was made of tin, but it made a tremendous clatter. “Stoopid!” yelled the cook, sticking his red face within a few inches of Reddy’s and waving his arms violently. “Awkward! I never saw nothin’ to beat you! You’re the limit!” “Aw, shut up,” growled Reddy, not yielding an inch. “An’ you calls yerself a dish-washer—” “No, I don’t,” broke in Reddy. “An’ I never will now that I’ve seen you!” “What!” shouted the cook, growing purple. “I’ll show you—” and his arm was drawn back to strike. But at that instant, Reddy’s fist was raised with seeming slowness and gentleness under the other’s jaw, and the cook, lifted by some mysterious force cleanly off his feet, struck the floor with a thud. “Good for you, turnip-top!” yelled one of the strike-breakers, as they came crowding around, attracted by the noise of the altercation. “Get up, cookie, get up!” yelled another. “You ain’t out yet—don’t show yellow!” And Reddy, fairly dancing with rage, added his insults to the others’. “Strike a gentleman, would ye!” he cried. “Don’t lay there blinkin’ like that! Stand up an take yer medicine like a man. Here, I’ll bring ye around!” and snatching the pan of dirty dish water from the table, he dashed it over his recumbent foe. A roar of laughter arose from the spectators; this was the sort of thing most of them delighted in; but their merriment acted on Reddy like a cold shower. He took one glance at them and then fiercely tore off the ragged piece of burlap he had been using as an apron. “An’ now I’ll bid ye good-bye,” he said. “I was jest thinkin’ o’ quittin’—this job don’t suit me,” and catching up his hat, he plunged through the door and past the astonished guard on the platform outside. “Stop me if ye dare!” cried Reddy, and took off his hat and threw it high in the air, but the guard, recognizing him, turned away with a grin. “My, but it does feel good t’ be out in the air again an’ away from them dishes. I never knew before how good air smelt.” He filled his lungs to the limit and exhaled slowly, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Then he stopped and looked about the yards. “Not much doin’,” he added, seeing the empty sidings; and, indeed, for fear it could not fulfil its engagements, the road was routing all the freight business possible through Columbus by way of the Midland division, instead of through Wadsworth, and was even handing some of it over to competing lines. “Why, hello, Jack!” he cried, as Jack Welsh suddenly turned the corner of the freight-house. Jack stared at him in astonishment. “Is it you, Reddy?” he asked. “When did you get out?”