One morning, about two weeks later, Mr. Schofield sat at his desk in his office, looking through his mail.
“You knew that Penlow is going to resign on the first?” he asked, glancing across at the chief-dispatcher, who sat facing him on the other side of the broad expanse of quartered oak.
“Yes—what’s the matter?”
“Well, he’s getting old. He’s been roadmaster nearly twenty years; and I guess he’s laid up a snug little fortune—enough to keep him the rest of his life. I think he’s sensible to quit when he’s got enough.”
“Yes—more sensible than lots of us who keep right on working till we drop. Who are you going to appoint in his place?”
“Well,” answered Mr. Schofield, slowly, “it will go naturally to one of the section-foremen—and I’m going to offer it to the best one on the road.”
The roadmaster, it may be remarked in passing, is a sort of magnified section-foreman. He has general supervision over a number of sections forming a subdivision, and all the foremen on that subdivision report to him. He has charge of all the track forces employed on his subdivision, and is responsible for keeping the track, fences, road-bed, bridges, culverts, and everything else pertaining to the roadway, in repair. He is supposed to spend most of his time out on his division, and to know every foot of it more intimately and minutely than any one else. He must be sure that the men under him understand their duties and perform them properly; he must attend in person to the removal of landslides, snow, or other obstructions, and in case of accident must take the necessary force to the place and use every effort to clear the road. Officially, he is known as a supervisor, and it will be seen that his position is one of considerable importance and responsibility.
“I’m going to offer it to the best one,” repeated Mr. Schofield.
“I think I know who you mean,” said the chief-dispatcher, smiling. “He’ll be all right.”