"You mean in an engine room?" said Owen. "No, in a foundry. This heat here isn't a patch to the heat in a foundry when they are pouring off metal." "I was never in a foundry," said Dale. "I was brought up around 'em." The young engineer looked at the young lumbermen curiously. "Just paying the camp a visit?" "No, we are looking for work. Mr. Balasco said he'd see what he could do for us to-morrow." "I hope he takes you on. Most of the hands here are foreigners, and there are only one or two young fellows like myself." A talk lasting the best part of half an hour followed, and Dale and Owen gained considerable knowledge about the lumber company, and the way the various yards were managed. They introduced themselves and told where they were from, and in return learned that the young engineer was named Bruce Howard, and that he had left his home in San Francisco nearly six months before. "I came up to Portland on a lumber boat," he said. "I had only about six dollars in my pocket, and thought I had best save what I could. In Portland I got a job working in the engine room of a sawmill, and that is where I picked up enough experience to run this donkey. Then I met one of the fellers, Andy Westmore, and came here with him, and I've been here ever since." "Do you like it?" questioned Owen. There was something about Bruce Howard that pleased him. "Oh, it isn't so bad, but I'd like something better if I could get it. I like to work in iron and steel better than running an engine. Some day I'm going to work my way over to Pennsylvania and get in one of the big steel plants there," continued Bruce Howard. "Then I take it you are alone in the world, like ourselves," came from Dale. At this remark a shadow showed itself for a moment on Bruce's face. "No, I'm not alone," he said. "I've got a father and a mother and a little sister. But, you see, father and I couldn't agree. I had a row in the foundry with the boss, and father wanted me to take back what I said, and I wouldn't do it. That brought on a big quarrel, and I said I'd clear out before I'd go on my knees to any boss, especially as I knew I was in the right. So then father said he wouldn't have me around if I wouldn't mind him, and we had some more words, and that night I packed my grip and came away--and I've been away ever since." "Don't they know where you are?" "Oh, yes! I've written half a dozen letters to my mother, and she has written to me. She wants me to come back, but father says he won't have me, and I--well, I don't want to go if he feels that way about it," concluded Bruce. CHAPTER XXVII WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LOG TRAIN