Mr. Little insisted on his hired man hitching up the family horse to drive Ralph home. Mrs. Fairbanks at a glance read pain and discomfort in her son’s face as he entered the sitting room. Ralph set her fears at rest with a hasty explanation. Then after resting a little he told her all about his adventures of the evening.
“It seems as if a railroader must take a double risk all the time,” she said in a somewhat regretful tone.
“It’s a part of the business to take things as they come, mother,” observed Ralph. “It’s a fight nowadays in every line where there is progress. The Great Northern is in the right, and will win, and it is my duty to help in the battle.”
When he came to look over his injured arm Ralph found a pretty bad bruise near the shoulder. His mother declared that it would need attention for some days to come.
“By which you mean, I suppose,” remarked Ralph with a smile, “that you want to coddle me off duty. Can’t be done, mother. I must stay on deck as long as I can pull a lever. Ouch!”
Ralph winced as he happened to give his arm a twist.
“You may change your mind by morning, my son,” observed Mrs. Fairbanks, with a slight motherly triumph in her tone.
When Ralph arose the next day he remembered those words. His arm was so stiff he could scarcely bend it at the elbow, and his hand was badly swollen. He had just finished breakfast when there came a ring at the telephone, which Ralph answered.
“That you, Fairbanks?” sounded the voice of the paymaster.
“Yes, Mr. Little.”