"Will you please tell us where Mr.Thurston is ?" "He's in his tent over yonder," said the cook, pointing through the open doorway.
"Shall we step over there and announce ourselves ?" Tom inquired.
"Why, ye could do it," rejoined the red-faced cook, with a grin.
"If Tim Thurston happens to be very busy he might use plain talk and tell you to git out of camp." "Then do you mind telling us just how we should approach the chief engineer ?" "Whatter yer names ?" "Reade and Hazelton." "Bob, trot over and tell Thurston there's two fellows here, named Reade and Hazelnut.

Ask him what he wants done with 'em." The cook's helper, who, so far, had not favored the new arrivals with a glance, now turned and looked them over.

Then, with a nod, the helper stepped across the ground to the largest tent in camp.

In a few moments he came back.
"Mr.Thurston says to stay around and he'll call you jest as soon as he's through with what he's doing," announced Bob, who, dark, thin and anemic, was a decrepit-looking man of fifty years or thereabouts.
"Ye can stand about in the open," added the cook, pointing with his ladle.

"There's better air out there." "Thank you," answered Tom briskly, but politely.