He wheeled as though to hurry away on his quest. Cummings tapped him with a finger on the shoulder.
“Wait, Mr. Hopkins,” he said.
“What is it?” snapped the supervisor.
“You’re going right away from about the only fellow that can help you out,” Cummings said with some complacency. “Don’t you see this boy here?” and he clapped a jovial hand upon Ralph’s shoulder.
“Oh, I say!” exclaimed the young train dispatcher. “None of that, Mr. Cummings. I am not looking for any more trouble.”
But the old station master waved an airy hand. He held Barton Hopkins’ attention.
“I know that Ralph is in good standing with the Brotherhood. He is the best little engineman there is on the division. If there is a man to-night can take this train through to Hammerfest anywhere near on time, it is him. The road is like a book to him——
“Ah! what’s the matter with you, boy?” he added, turning to face the young fellow. “What are you—a man, or a monkey, I want to know? What does it matter what people say or think? You are working for the Great Northern and you’ve got the good of the road at heart. Isn’t that so?”
“You know it!” exclaimed Ralph, half angrily.
“All right. Here is the supervisor. He wants the best man he can get for the job because he is all for the road’s interest——”