Glidden was in charge as they came into the place. The two trick men under him and the copy operators were busy at their tables. Mounted on a roll in front of Glidden was the current official time card of the division. From the information contained thereon he had evidently just finished his calculation for time orders, meeting points and work trains.
“Good morning, Glidden,” said the superintendent. “I spoke to you yesterday about our friend, Fairbanks here.”
The gruff dispatcher nodded brusquely. He liked Ralph and the latter knew it. Ralph also knew that Glidden was one of the “true blues” of the office.
“His arm is not strong enough to pull a lever, but he’s in shape to tackle a key, and knows how to do it.”
“Glad,” vouchsafed Glidden tersely.
“All right. Set him at work.”
“Come on,” said Glidden, and he opened the little office gate and Ralph stood within the charmed precincts of the train dispatching circle.
“You’ve had some experience, I understand,” resumed Glidden, after some bustling about. “I suppose you know what an O. S. report is?”
“The one sent in by operators of the various stations as trains arrive and depart.”
“Exactly, and the ‘Consists’?”