“I’ll make a report adverse to Bassett and he’ll be kicked out of the brotherhood?”
“Won’t he make a howl?”
“Let him. What good will it do? My report goes.”
Mr. Schofield nodded, as he watched the cigar smoke float slowly upward.
“I see,” he commented, and there was a moment’s silence. “Suppose,” he went on, at last, “that you were convinced that it was your duty to make such a report, what assurance would we have that you would really make it?”
“You’d have to take my word,” said Nixon. “You could count on me making the report, all right, if I was properly convinced.”
“And I suppose,” continued Mr. Schofield, “that you would have to be—ah—convinced in advance.”
This was a new experience for him and he was considerably the more confused of the two.
“Sure thing,” answered Nixon, bluntly.
“Well, I’ll see if I can convince you. Bassett was drunk, he was insolent to his superior officer; to reinstate him would mean the end of discipline on this line. His offence falls clearly under rule forty-three, which says that no employee of the road, on duty or off, shall frequent saloons. In violating that rule, he laid himself liable to discharge and discharged he was. He also violated rule sixty-one, which says that insolence to a superior officer may be punished by dismissal, at the discretion of the train master. The train master exercised his discretion and dismissed him. When Bassett was employed by the road he was given a copy of the rules and knew that he must obey them if he wanted to hold his job. He disobeyed them, and lost it—so he’s got nobody to blame but himself. That’s our position. Don’t you think it’s a pretty strong one?”