"
By degrees the young engineer extracted the information that he
was after. Bit by bit Alf told the tale, interspersing his story
with dismal groans.
"I always told you, Alf, that smoking would do you up if you ever
tackled it," Reade said gravely.
"But I have smoked for a year," Alf protested.
"Oh, no," Tom contradicted him. "The use of cigarettes isn't
smoking. It's just mere freshness on the part of a small boy.
But smoking---that's a different matter, as you've found out.
Now, Alf, I hope you've learned a needed lesson, and that after
this you'll let tobacco alone. While you're about it you might
as well quit cigarettes, too. But I'm going to change your job.
Don't go back to the cook. Instead, report to me in about an
hour."
Then Tom strode forward. After he had left young Drew there was
an ominous flash in the young engineer's eyes. He strode into
camp and went straight to the cook's shack.
"Leon," Tom demanded, "what have you been doing to that poor little
shrimp of a helper?"
The cook turned around, grinning.
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