“Human natur’ ’s a funny thing,” he added, shaking his head philosophically, “’specially when it comes t’ railroads. Many’s th’ man Oi’ve seen nearly break his neck t’ git acrost th’ track in front of a train, an’ thin stop t’ watch th’ train go by; an’ many another loafer, who never does anything but kill toime, ’ll worrit hisself sick if th’ train he’s on happens t’ be tin minutes late. It’s th’ man who ain’t got no business that’s always lettin’ on t’ have th’ most. Here comes th’ flier,” he added, as a shrill whistle sounded from afar up the road.
They stood aside to watch the train shoot past with a rush and roar, to draw into the station at Wadsworth on time to the minute.
“That was Jem Spurling on th’ ingine,” observed Reddy, as they went back to work. “Th’ oldest ingineer on th’ road—an’ th’ nerviest. Thet’s th’ reason he’s got th’ flier. Most fellers loses their nerve after they’ve been runnin’ an ingine a long time, an’ a year ’r two back, Jem got sort o’ shaky fer awhile—slowed down when they wasn’t no need of it, y’ know; imagined he saw things on th’ track ahead, an’ lost time. Well, th’ company wouldn’t stand fer thet, ’specially with th’ flier, an’ finally th’ train-master told him thet if he couldn’t bring his train in on time, he’d have t’ go back t’ freight. Well, sir, it purty nigh broke Jem’s heart.
“‘Oi tell y’, Mister Schofield,’ he says t’ th’ train-master, ‘Oi’ll bring th’ train in on toime if they’s a brick house on th’ track.’
“‘All right,’ says Mr. Schofield; ‘thet’s all we ask,’ an’ Jem went down to his ingine.
“Th’ next day Jem come into th’ office t’ report, an’ looked aroun’ kind o’ inquirin’ like.
“‘Any of it got here yet?’ he asks.
“‘Any o’ what?’ asks Mr. Schofield.
“‘Any o’ thet coal,’ says Jem.
“‘What coal?’ asks Mr. Schofield.