And the order went, "Siding, quick, and meet Extra 81, west, at
Rucker," and the superintendent rose from the chair.
"It's all over, boys," said he, turning to the operators. "Remember,
no man ever got to a railroad presidency by talking; but many men have
by keeping their mouths shut. Lay Cawkins on the lounge in my room.
Duffy said that boy would never do."
"What was Burling doing, Morris," asked Glover, sitting down by the
stove.
"Ask him, Garry," suggested Blood. They waited for the answer.
"Were you asleep on your cot?" asked the despatcher, getting Rucker
again.
"If that fellow woke on my call, I'll make a despatcher of him,"
declared Morris Blood, with a thrill of fine pride.
"No," answered Rucker, "I slept upstairs tonight."
The two men at the stove stared at one another. "How did you hear your
call?" asked the despatcher. Again their ears were on edge.
And Rucker answered, "I always come down once in the night to put coal
on the fire."
"Another illusion destroyed," smiled Morris Blood. "Hang him, I'll
promote him, anyway, for attending to his fire."
"But you couldn't do that again in a thousand years, Mr. Blood,"
ventured a young and enthusiastic operator who had helped to lay out
poor Bud Cawkins.
The mountain man looked at him coldly. "I sha'n't want to do that
again in a thousand years. In the railroad life it always comes
different, every time. Go to your key."
"I'm glad we got that particular train out of trouble," he added,
turning to Glover when they were alone.
"What train?"
"That Special 833 is the Brock special. You didn't know it? We've
been looking for them from the coast for two days."