I'll show you what I mean
when we get alongside."
"You may be right," Quest admitted. "Anyway, we'll start on the job."
The section boss turned around and whistled. From a little side track two
men jumped on to a hand-car, and brought it round to where they were
standing. A few yards away, the man who was propelling it--a great
red-headed Irishman--suddenly ceased his efforts. Leaning over his pole,
he gazed at Quest. A sudden ferocity darkened his coarse face. He gripped
his mate by the arm.
"See that bloke there?" he asked, pointing at Quest.
"The guy with the linen collar?" the other answered. "I see him."
"That's Quest, the detective," the Irishman went on hoarsely. "That's the
man who got me five years in the pen, the beast. That's the man I've been
looking for. You're my mate, Jim, eh?"
"I guess so," the other grunted. "Are you going to try and do him in?"
"You wait!"
"Now, then, you fellows," Horan shouted. "What are you hanging about there
for, Red Gallagher? Bring the carriage up. You fellows can go and have a
smoke for an hour. I'm going to take her down the line a bit."
The two men obeyed and disappeared in the direction of the section house.
Quest looked after them curiously.
"That's a big fellow," he remarked. "What did you call him? Red Gallagher?
I seem to have seen him before."
"He was the most troublesome fellow on the line once, although he was the
biggest worker," the boss replied. "He got five years in the penitentiary
and that seems to have taken the spirit out of him.
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