It was two weeks after the kidnapping of young Trevor, and affairs had subsided to regular routine for the engineer and fireman of the Limited Mail. The president of the Great Northern had sent a check for one hundred dollars to Ralph, which he divided with Griscom, both making up twenty-five dollars for Van Sherwin. From the actions of their superiors they knew that their 107 being in close touch with Mr. Grant had helped them considerably, and both felt secure and contented in their positions, when a new disturbing element appeared.
For several days there had been trouble on both the Great Northern and the Midland Central. As Ralph understood it, the discharge of an irresponsible engineer on the latter line of railroad had led to a demand for his reinstatement. This the railway officials refused. A strike was at once ordered.
Two days later a man named Delmay, a strike agent, came to Stanley Junction. He demanded that the men on the Great Northern engage in a sympathetic strike until the other road was brought to terms. The older, wiser hands laughed at him. Jim Evans had returned to Stanley Junction, and at once joined in a movement to disrupt the local union by favoring the strike in question.
Evans had done a good deal of swaggering and threatening around the roundhouse that day, Ralph had just learned, and had intimidated some of the new hands into joining in the strike movement. He had left word that, as men came in from their runs, they were to report at a hall where the strikers met and announce which side of the contest they favored. 108
“Here we are, lad,” said the veteran engineer, as they started up the stairs of a building on Railroad Street. “Don’t look very business-like, those pails of beer going into that hall yonder and that cloud of tobacco smoke. I wouldn’t stir a foot, only it’s quite regular according to union rules to call and report in a matter like this.”
“What are you going to do, Mr. Griscom?” asked Ralph.
“Short and sweet, give my sentiments and leave these loafers to fight it out among themselves.”
“Include mine,” said Ralph. “I do not understand these strike complications and I know you do, so I shall follow your guidance.”
When they entered the hall they found a noisy crowd, smoking, playing cards and lounging about. On a platform sat Jim Evans, looking profoundly important. He sat at a table with a heap of papers before him. Griscom approached him, Ralph by his side.
“Who’s in charge here?” demanded the old engineer gruffly.