“Yes, we’ll get the cat, Billy. The only thing I’m afraid of is that we may get the kitten, too. If that should happen, your Uncle Calvin might fly the track. Let’s go. I have an appointment to meet Judge Walsh, of the United States District Court, at half-past three, and I’m going to ask you to borrow Maxwell’s car and drive me out to the judge’s house.”
Before nightfall of the Monday it became plainly evident that the new management of the Short Line had climbed fairly into the executive saddle and was making due preparations to stay there. As Maxwell had prophesied, Receiver Dimmock made a clean sweep, and before the first through train came in over the new routing a score of minor department heads had been let out and their places filled by T-C. men. Even the train-despatchers were discharged; and after dinner Maxwell held a “consolation” meeting in the hotel club-rooms with his fired staff, and listened patiently to the bad language which the wholesale hardship evoked.
To one and all of the losers he said the same thing, however; they were to sit tight and say nothing for the present. It was a long lane that had no turning, and the next turn in the Short Line lane might not be very far distant.
“Just one thing, Mr. Maxwell,” Connolly, the fat despatcher, put in, as the meeting was about to break up. “If you’ll tell us that Mr. Scientific Sprague is with us I guess we’ll all sleep better to-night.”
“He is,” said Maxwell. “That’s all for the present. Just sit tight and don’t talk. Go home and take your lay-off. If we win out, you’re all under pay, just the same as if you were on the job.”
It was late that night, after Maxwell had gone to his room, that the long-delayed word came from New York. Maxwell read the telegram from President Ford, and, late as it was, took it immediately to Sprague’s room, which was on the floor below. The expert got out of bed to admit him, and read the few type-written lines thoughtfully.
“He puts it up to you good and hard, doesn’t he?” was his comment. “But that is about what I expected. He is up to his neck in the fight to keep those lending bankers from dumping the majority stock and running around in circles. Go to the wire and tell him to keep a stiff upper lip; that you’re not dead yet. Also, you might add that Kinzie’s backing him with those bankers.”
“By Jove!” said Maxwell. “Was that what you wanted Kinzie for to-day?”
“It was one of the things. Get your message in so that Ford will have it in the morning. Good-night.”
With the opening of the second day the Brewster excitement had died down to some extent, and the new railroad routine was getting itself shaken into the working rut. On every hand it was evident that the coup had been carefully planned long in advance. Almost without a break the through service was established over the new routing, and a hard-and-fast law was laid down for the Short Line rank and file employees, the vast majority of whom were retained under the receivership. The law briefly exacted loyalty to the new management. There would be no more removals except for cause; but anything less than a hearty acceptance of the court order would be considered sufficient cause for prompt dismissal.