The Switchman's Story
The Wiper's Story
The Roadmaster's Story
The Striker's Story
The Despatcher's Story
The Nightman's Story
The Master Mechanic's Story
The Operator's Story
The Trainmaster's Story
The Yellow Mail Story
"He's rather a bad lot, I guess," wrote Bucks to Callahan, "but I amsatisfied of one thing—you can't run that yard with a Sunday-schoolsuperintendent. He won't make you any trouble unless he gets todrinking. If that happens, don't have any words with him." Bucksunderscored three times. "Simply crawl into a cyclone cellar and wireme. Sending you eighteen loads of steel to-night, and six cars of ties.Blair reports section 10 ready for track layers and Mear's outfit movinginto the Palisade Cañon. Push the stuff to the front."
It was getting dark, and Callahan sat in that part of the Benkletondepot he called the office, pulling at a muddy root that wentunaccountably hot in sudden flashes. He took the pipe from his mouth,leaving his foot on the table, and looked at the bowl resentfully,wondering again if there could be powder in that infernal tobacco ofRubedo's. The mouthpiece he eyed as a desperate man might ponder a finalshift.
The pipe had originally come from God's Country, with a Beautiful AmberMouthpiece, and a Beautiful Bowl; but it was a present from his sisterand had been bought at a dry-goods store. Once when thinking—or, if youplease, when not thinking—Callahan had held a lighted match to theBe