Ralph went outside as he heard a whistle down the rails. Evans was standing near a switch.
“Some kind of a plot, eh, you and your friend?” he sneered at Ralph.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Evans,” replied Ralph.
“Oh, yes, you do. Forgan is partial to you. The others don’t like me because I’m a crack man in my line. One word, though; I’ll pay you off for this some time or other,” and Evans left the spot shaking his fist at Ralph menacingly.
“One of the bad kind,” mused Ralph, looking after the fellow, “not at all fit for duty half the time. Here comes one of the good kind,” he added as a freight engine with a long train of cars attached steamed up at the roundhouse. “It’s my run, Mr. Griscom.”
“That’s famous news,” cried old John Griscom, genuinely pleased. 5
“Good evening, Mr. Cooper,” said Ralph, as the fireman leaped from the cab.
“Hello,” responded the latter. “You got the run? Well, it’s a good man in a good man’s place.”
“That’s right,” said Griscom. “None better. In to report, Sam? Good-bye. Shovel in the coal, lad,” the speaker directed Ralph. “It’s a bad night for railroading, and we’ll have a hard run to Dover.”
Ralph applied himself to his duties at once. He opened the fire door, and as the ruddy glow illuminated his face he was a picture pleasant to behold.