However, he was vigorous, keen-sighted, and a thoroughly active man. He stood well in the Brotherhood and with the officials of the Great Northern. When the choice came for engineer of the swift express, Marks’ name headed the list. He stepped into the job.
But Ralph had helped to make over the night schedule, necessary to squeeze in the varnished train. There were stretches of twenty and thirty miles that called for perfect running, and at a mile a minute, for the Midnight Flyer. A stop signal, even for half a minute, might make the train fall behind. Any little accident was likely to put her off her speed.
As a matter of fact, since Byron Marks had wheeled her out of the Rockton station a week and more before, not once had the Midnight Flyer made Hammerfest on time. There was a connection to be made there with the Boise City & Western that called for the flyer’s being on time. If the Great Northern express could not keep to its schedule, the train might as well be taken off altogether.
“After what you say, Zeph,” Ralph said soberly, as the two friends came out of the Owl Lunch wagon, “I am afraid there will not be any hoghead envious of By Marks’ run.”
“You said something,” agreed Zeph. “This McCarrey fellow——”
“Sh! Speak easy of him. Don’t know who may be listening.”
“Just as I thought. He’s the Big Noise around here?”
“He is with the men who are anxious to strike. He has no standing with the Brotherhoods, of course. But you know the general feeling among railroaders just now. If the corporations get the dirty end of the stick there are not many employees going to weep about it.”
“You said something,” repeated Zeph Dallas. “Well, has this man whose name we will not mention really got all the influence that I thought he had?”
“Among the disgruntled, I am afraid he has,” admitted Ralph.