“Well, boys,” he began, when they were seated, “I suppose you know there’s going to be a strike.”
“Yes,” nodded Mr. Plumfield, “it’s all over the place.”
“It starts at noon to-morrow. The engineers will go out and I suppose the firemen will, too, right away. But how about the conductors and brakemen?”
“I don’t believe the conductors will go out without orders from headquarters,” said the train master reflectively. “And maybe they won’t get orders. You know they have been mighty careful recently about engaging in any sympathy strikes.”
“Yes, I know they have, and I suppose the brakemen will stay as long as the conductors do. But it’s going to be quite a job to get engineers and firemen to move our trains. We’ve got a total of sixty-two regular trains in both directions every day, and thirty-eight of them are passengers.”
“But a lot of them are suburban trains running between Cincinnati and Loveland,” put in Allan.
“Yes,” agreed the superintendent, consulting the time-card. “Twenty of them are. Of course they can be doubled back and forth, and some of them can be taken off, if necessary. But there must be no interference with the road’s through traffic. At 12.15 to-morrow—fifteen minutes after the strike commences—Number Four, our through flier, leaves Cincinnati—and it’s going to leave on time, if I have to take it out myself. I haven’t forgotten how to run an engine, George.”
“Neither have I,” laughed the train master; “nor how to fire, either. But that’s only one train.”
“Mr. Round has been getting some men together on the quiet. He knew this thing was coming, and did his best to get ready for it. I only hope he’s got enough.”
“Of course we’ll win,” said Allan, hopefully.