LITMIR.BIZ

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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."

      The enthusiasm and bluff heartiness of the super was contagious. Holman put out his hand impulsively. "We've heard a lot of you fellows down East," he said, "and I'm glad 'I've got a chance to chip in." His eyes swept around the room and came back to meet the super's smilingly. "Even if accommodations are below 'Tourist Class,'" he added.

      So Holman came to the division and joined the staff. Spence, chief dispatcher, had shaken his head. "Twenty-eight and locomotive foreman of this division with the roughest, toughest bunch on the system's pay-roll to handle! Hanged if he isn't a decent sort, though, even if he will shave and wear collars. Imagine Williams with creased trousers! And say, his wardrobe—he's actually got a dress suit with him! Wouldn't that ground the wires! Who is he, Carleton? Got a pull with the Old Man?"

      "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 Carleton, 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. ​There was a trace of heightened color in Holman's face as he turned to look for Rafferty.

      The boss fitter was in his usual place. Down the shop, hands dug deep in his trousers pockets, legs spread wide apart, he swung slowly round and round on the little iron turntable that intersected the hand-car tracks where they branched out in all directions through the shops. As Holman approached he stopped the motion indolently by allowing the toe of his boot to trail along the floor around the table.

      Holman's manner was quiet and his voice was soft, almost deferential, as he spoke: "I see you have 483 finished, Mr. Rafferty."

      Rafferty looked down from his superior two inches and said: "Yis."

      "And," continued Holman, "you've run in 840 in her place."

      "Yis," said Rafferty again, this time even more indifferently than before.

      "Well, now, really, Mr. Rafferty, I'd like to know why you did it? You know I told you yesterday to be particular to take 522 next." Holman's tones were more nearly those of apology than of expostulation.

      For answer Rafferty gave a little shove with his foot and the turntable began to revolve slowly. During the circuit Rafferty coolly gave some directions to the men nearest him, and then as he once more came round facing Holman he stopped. "Fwhat was ut you was sayin', Mr. Holman?" he drawled.

      "This is the biggest division on the system, isn't it?" Holman asked inconsequently.

      ​"Eh?" demanded Rafferty.

      "Longest division—most mileage—covers quite a stretch of country," Holman amplified.

      "Oh!" returned the other with a grin. "Well, you'll be thinkin' so if you ever sthay long enough to git acquainted wid ut."

      "Perhaps that's the reason I am beginning to feel cramped—I've only been here a month, you know," Holman smiled.

      "Fwhat d'ye mean?"

      "Why, curiously, it doesn't seem big enough or wide enough or long enough for even two men."

      Holman purred his words in soft, mild accents, and Rafferty, understanding, sneered in quick retort:

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