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Ebook has 1671 lines and 88205 words, and 34 pages

ON THE IRON AT BIG CLOUD

McClelland & Goodchild Limited

Prospect Press, Printers New York, U.S.A.

MY FATHER

ON THE IRON AT BIG CLOUD

I--RAFFERTY'S RULE

The General Manager of the Transcontinental System glared at the young man who stood facing him across the office desk. "Why, you wouldn't last three months!" he snapped.

"I'd like to try, uncle."

"Humph!"

"I'm qualified for the position," young Holman went on. "I've done my stint with the construction gangs and I've spent four years in the Eastern shops. You promised me that if I'd stick I'd have my chance."

"Well, if I did, I didn't promise to put you in the way of making a fool of yourself and a laughing-stock of me, did I? You may be qualified technically, I don't say you're not. In fact, I've been rather pleased with you; that's one reason why you're not going out there to tackle something you can't handle. If men like Rawson and Williams can't hold down the job, what do you expect to do?"

"No worse than they, at least," Holman answered, quietly. "Look here, uncle, that's just the point. There aren't any of the men want the position, so I'm not jumping anybody to take it. I'll not make any laughing-stock of you, either. I'm not going out as the Old Man's nephew; just plain Dick Holman. If I don't make good you can wash your hands of my railroad career."

"Young man," said the General Manager, severely, "don't make rash statements."

He pushed the papers on his desk irritably to one side. Then he frowned. Two years ago, when the road had dug, blasted, burrowed, and trestled its right of way through the mountains, they had built the repair shops for the maintenance of the rolling stock, and from the moment the first brass time-check had been issued the locomotive-foremanship of the Hill Division was no subject to be introduced with temerity anywhere within the precincts of the executive offices. One man after another had gone out there, and one after another they had resigned. "Hard lot to handle," Carleton, the division superintendent, had replied to the numerous requests for explanation that had been fired at him. And now Dick wanted to go. The general manager's fingers beat a tattoo on the desk and his frown deepened into a scowl. "You're a young fool," he grunted at last.

And Holman knew that he had gained his point "That's very good of you, uncle," he cried. "I knew you'd see it my way. When may I start?"

"All right, uncle," Holman laughed in reply. "It's a bargain."

Three days later, as Number One pulled into Big Cloud, Holman swung himself to the platform. Up past the mail and baggage cars, the steam drumming at her safety, a big ten-wheeler was backing down to couple on for the run through the Rockies. There was the pride of proprietorship in his glance as his eyes swept the great mogul critically, for in his pocket was his official appointment as Locomotive Foreman of the Hill Division, vice Williams, resigned.

It was not until the last of the Pullmans had rolled smoothly past him that he turned to take stock in his surroundings. The first impression was not prepossessing. Before him, just across the yard filled with strings of freight cars, were the low, rambling, smoke-begrimed shops and running shed, while beyond these again the town straggled out monotonously.

To the westward, through the mountains, were the curves and grades that wrenched and racked and tore the equipment he would hereafter be accountable for. To the eastward--but "eastward" was only two hundred yards away, for there his eye caught the "Yard Limit" post, that likewise marked the end of the division.

If after this cursory survey there still lingered any illusions of the picturesque in Holman's mind, they were rudely dispelled by the interior of the barn-like structure at the side of the platform that did duty for station, division headquarters, general storeroom, and anything else that might seek the shelter of its protecting roof. The walls were adorned with such works of art as are afforded by the Sunday supplements, interspersed here and there with an occasional blue-print and time schedule. The furnishings bore unmistakable evidence of having seen service with the construction staff when the road was in the making. At the right of the door, as Holman entered, the despatcher was poring over the train sheet.

"Sure," said he in answer to Holman's inquiry, "that's the super over there."

Holman crossed the room and proffered his credentials.

"Glad you've come," was Carleton's greeting, as he rose and extended his hand. "We've been expecting you. Williams went East this morning on Number Two. Sit down. That's your desk there."

Holman glanced at the battered table toward which the other pointed, then back again to the four days' growth on the super's face.

Carleton grinned. "Fixings aren't up to what you boiled-shirt fellows down East are used to. Out here on the firing line most anything goes. I've been requisitioning office fixtures for months. Ain't seen any way-bill of them yet, Davis, have you?" he called across to the despatcher.

Davis got up with a laugh and joined the other two. "No," said he, shaking hands with Holman, "not yet."

"And not likely to, either," continued the super. "It's rough and ready out here, Holman. The staff quarters up there," he jerked his thumb toward the ceiling, "are all-fired crude, and the Chinese cook is a gilt-edge thief and most persuasive liar; but we've got the finest division of the best railroad in the world, and we're pushing stuff through the mountains on a schedule that makes Southern competition sick. We're young here yet. Some day, when the roadbed's shaken down to stay, we'll build the extras."

"Didn't inquire," returned Carleton bluntly. "Let him try out."

If the super waited before passing judgment on the latest addition to the staff of the Hill Division, the shop hands did likewise--but for another reason. They waited for Rafferty. Rafferty was boss. Who Rafferty's boss was, was his affair, and it did not concern them. What Rafferty said--went. It was two weeks before he delivered his verdict.

"A damned pink-faced dude!" he announced and terminated his remark with a stream of black-strap juice by way of an exclamation mark.

The fiat had gone forth!

Down in the pits, stripping the engines of their motion gear, the fitters passed resolutions of confidence in Rafferty's judgment, and among the lathes and planers the machinists did likewise. The concurrence of the forge gang was expressed by a vicious wielding of the big sledges that sent showers of sparks flying from the spluttering metal whenever Holman was sighted coming down the shop on a tour of inspection--a significant intimation to him to keep his distance. And that the sentiment of the shops might not be lacking in unanimity, the boilermakers, should Holman have the temerity to pause for an instant before a shell on which they were at work, would send up a din from their clattering hammers intolerable to any but the men themselves whose ears were plugged with cotton waste.

As for Holman, he might have been entirely unconscious of the hostility and ill-will of his subordinates for all the evidence he gave of being aware of it. He was busy mastering the routine and details of his new position. For a month he said nothing; then one morning over at headquarters he turned to Carle-ton, who was reading the train mail that had just come in.

"Why did Williams resign?" he asked quietly.

"Eh?" said Carleton, startled out of his calm by reason of the suddenness of the question.

"Why did Williams resign?" Holman repeated.

"Oh, I don't know. Tired of the life out here, I guess," Carleton evaded.

"Was it Rafferty?"

Carleton turned sharply to scrutinize the other's countenance. Holman was gazing out of the window.

"It was Rafferty," Carleton admitted after a moment.

Holman's gaze never shifted from the window. "Why wasn't Rafferty fired?" he asked in the same quiet tones, but this time there was just the faintest tinge of accusation in his voice.

Carleton's face flushed. An instant's hesitation, then he answered bluntly: "He weighed more, that's why!"

"Oh!" said Holman significantly. "Then why didn't you recommend Rafferty for the position long ago and save all the trouble?"

"I would have if he could do anything more than sign his name."

Holman turned angrily to face the super. "So," he cried, "when a fellow comes out here he has to play a lone hand, eh? A show-down with Rafferty, shop hands, and the whole division drawing cards against him. You, Carleton, I didn't put you down as a man with a pet."

Carleton got up and put his hand on Holman's shoulder. "Don't do it, either," he said quietly. "Don't run off your schedule that way, son. It has always been man to man, and I wasn't appealed to. So far it has been all Rafferty. It's easier to get a new foreman than a new shop crew, so I haven't interfered."

"I don't understand," said Holman blankly.

The super laughed shortly. "Rafferty has the men where he wants them. If he got on his ear he could tie us up so quick we wouldn't know what happened. A nice thing for me to admit, isn't it? But it's so. I suppose I should have nipped the whole business in the bud, but I kept on hoping that each new man would beat Rafferty at his own game. Has he got you going, too?"

Holman gathered up the repair reports from his desk and started for the door. "Game's young yet," he flung over his shoulder as he went out.

From the office Holman walked up the yard to the spur tracks at the end of the shops where three or four engines were waiting their turn for an empty pit. He glanced at their numbers, comparing them with the papers he held in his hand, then turned and walked back, pausing on the way to inspect an engine, bright and clean as fresh paint and gold leaf would make her, that had been hauled out of the shops that morning. He passed in through the upper doors to the fitting-shop. Already another engine had been shunted in to replace the one that had gone out. Her guard-plates, links, cross-heads, main and connecting rods were lying on the floor beside her, and the labor gang were jacking and blocking her up preparatory to running the wheels out from underneath her.

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