# Bound to be an Electrician/Chapter 22

CHAPTER XXII.
FRANKLIN SHOWS HIS COURAGE.
All those who witnessed the young electrician's unexpected assault upon the enraged truckman, were for the moment. so astonished that they neither moved nor spoke.
The truckman, dazed by the push Franklin had given him, and befuddled by the liquor he had drunk, rolled over on his back, while the red hot stamping iron left his hand, and spun away a distance of several yards.
"Hullo, who are you?" cried the second truckman, who was the first to recover from his astonishment.
Before Franklin could reply to this question, the man who had been struck, sat up and glared at Franklin, his blood-shot eyes full of rage and hatred.
"Wot you mean by knocking me down?" he cried.
"You shall not touch those horses with that red-hot iron," exclaimed Franklin, his breast heaving ​with indignation. "You are a brute! the poor animals did the best they could. You have too much of a load on the truck."
"So that's the reason you knocked me down, hey?" stormed the fallen one, as he attempted to rise to his feet, something which was not an easy thing for him to do. "Who set you to giving me orders I would like to know."
"No one, but I am not going to see that team abused. If you misuse them again I'll have you arrested."
"I reckon Hank Bitters will do as he pleases!" howled the truckman, as he at last managed to stand upright. "You had no right to attack me, and I'm going to get square for it."
He ran up to Franklin, and made a savage lunge at the young electrician with his big fist. But Franklin was on his guard, and easily avoided the blow, and the truckman brought up against the edge of the platform with a crash.
By this time the word had been spread that a row was in progress, and fully a dozen of the employees of the factory gathered around the open doors, to see how the affair would terminate.
His failure to hit Franklin only enraged the half drunken driver more, and as soon as he could recover, he again rushed forward, and this time caught Franklin by the coat sleeve.
"Now I'll fix you!" he fumed. "I reckon I'll use ​my horses the way I please, and you nor nobody else will interfere with me!"
Still retaining his hold, the truckman endeavored to strike Franklin with his disengaged hand. But the young electrician, who fully understood the sort of a man with whom he had to deal, was on his guard. He warded off the blow by putting up his free arm, and then pushed the fellow away from him with a force that once more sent Hank Bitters on his back.
In going down this time, the truckman's left hand struck upon the hot end of stamping iron. He gave a fearful yell of fright and pain.
"Ouch, my hand! My hand is burnt off! Oh, but I'll fix you for this!" And snatching up the handle of the iron with his other hand, he scrambled to his feet and made at Franklin, intending to use the branding instrument upon the young electrician's face.
Seeing the new danger which confronted him, Franklin thought it best to get out of harm's way. With a quick bound, he landed on the platform, and plunged almost into the arms of a very loudly dressed young man who had just arrived on the scene from the office at the opposite end of the building.
"Here, what does this mean?" demanded the loudly dressed young man, and by the way those around got out of his way, Franklin knew he must ​be either the superintendent, or one of the owners of the works.
"I'm going to fix him!" roared the truckman, who was struggling to climb on top the platform, and did not notice whom he was addressing. "I'll show him that I'll do as I please about the place!"
"He wants to burn me with that red hot stamping iron," returned Franklin, as he pointed to the instrument the truckman held. "He is angry at me because I would not let him use the iron on his team."
"Is that so, Bitters?" questioned the man beside Franklin. "Did you try to burn the horses with that thing?"
By this time the truckman had gained the top of the platform, and he now became aware of whom he was addressing. A change at once came over his face, and he attempted to conceal the stamping iron behind him.
"Excuse me, Mr. Smith," he said, cringingly, "I was after that boy, who tried to interfere with me just now."
"You have been drinking again. Bitters," returned Montague Smith, one of the two brothers, who owned the works.
"Only one glass, sir, for my cold."
"Let me see what you have behind you."
Very hesitatingly, Hank Bitters produced the ​stamping iron. Montague Smith assured himself that it was really hot.
"So you were going to brand the team, eh?" questioned the part owner of the battery works, harshly.
"No, sir, I was only going to—to stamp a box, sir," stammered the truckman.
"What box?"
"One of the—er—the one on the truck, sir."
"Most likely," sneered Montague Smith. "Don't you know that that team cost six hundred dollars?" He turned to Franklin. "So you stopped him, did you?"
"Yes, sir. But before he got the iron he used the whip most shamefully. That was what made me angry. I can't bear to see a horse mistreated."
"It ain't so!" howled the truckman. I know my business! I only tapped 'em a little—"
"No more. Bitters. You are drunk, and I know just how you act when you are that way," said Montague Smith, cutting the man short. "I told you before I wouldn't have the horses abused. I'll take a look at them."
The part owner of the works, sprang to the ground and began to inspect the animals. He was a sporty young man and knew more about horseflesh than he did about his regular business. He readily noted how the whip had been applied, and his face took on a hard and ugly look.
​"You can't work for us anymore, Bitters," he said, shortly. "Horse-flesh costs too much money. I'm no soft-hearted fool, but at the same time I won't allow any driver to injure our animals—it's not profitable. You can let the truck stand where it is, and get the pay due you."
At this the truckman began to mutter under his breath, and then he shook his fist Franklin.
"I'll fix you for this; mark my words if I don't," he said.
Then he attempted to argue with his employer, but it was all to no purpose. Montague Smith spoke to the others present about the affair, and learned from them, that what Franklin had said was strictly true. The truckman was discharged, and went off to find consolation at some neighboring saloon.
"You ought to have notified me of this before, Macklin," said Montague Smith, to the other truck driver. "I told you to keep an eye on Bitters."
"He said he was going to reform," pleaded Macklin. "And I didn't want him to lose his job, seeing that he's got a sick wife on his hands."
"I don't care if he's got a wife and sixteen children," returned Montague Smith, heartlessly.
"He can go to the dogs for all I care. But he can't injure our horses—it's too expensive. He ruined old Joe, and we had to sell him for less than a hundred."
​"Shall I drive on alone?" asked the truckman, meekly changing the subject.
"I suppose you'll have to," responded Montague Smith, irritatedly. "There is no one else around to drive, is there?"
"Not as I know of, sir."
"That's always the way, and I wanted those batteries taken away before to-morrow morning, too."
Montague Smith had seemingly forgotten all about Franklin, but now as the young electrician touched him on the arm, he wheeled about quickly.
"Oh, I forgot to thank you for saving our horses from being abused," he said, in an off-hand way "It was very clever. How did you happen to be around?"
"I drifted into the yard to see what was going on," returned Franklin. "I have been working at the electrical trade, and am interested in manufacturing batteries."
"Well?"
"I thought you might have some job open for me."
"We are full—in fact, more than full, sorry to say. Trade is dull."
"I just heard you speak about a driver for that truck," Franklin went on. "I can drive quite well, sir."
"Can you? What is your name?"
​"Franklin Bell. I would like to drive the truck until you can give me a place in the works."
"Well, since you did us a good turn, you can try the job," returned Montague Smith, shortly. "Macklin will give you instructions. Do you hear, Macklin?"
"Yes, sir," returned the truckman.
"You can follow Macklin now, and to-morrow morning come in the office and I'll have a talk with you. There is no time to waste at present. If the load is too heavy, take the top row of boxes off. Macklin, help him get the load into shape."
And without another word Montague Smith walked back to the office, leaving Franklin to proceed with his new work as best he could.