I hesitated a moment, wondering how I was going to get three first-class references for a man who had spent a big part of his twenty-four years in riotous living, even to the point of being disowned. But there was no such thing as resisting him now.
"Oh, I don't have to wait for it; that can be done any time. But we can fix it some way, can't we, Ben?—I've got to," he added with emphasis.
"Yes, if we have a little time I think it can be arranged," said I, soberly, wondering somewhat over the details of the job. But he hardly waited for my assurance before he seized me by the hand and began dragging me about the room.
"Come on, let's get out—out in the air—let's go out and have a good time," he commanded as he got my hat and jammed it down over my head. "It's up the river, only about a hundred miles. You can come up Sunday. It's big enough to have a day and night man, and I get the day job!" he added, loud enough for the whole house to hear him as we passed downstairs to the street.
The following Sunday I went to see him. His station was delightfully located. There was enough level space between the river and its very high bluffs for two long sidetracks convenient for the meeting of freight trains, which made a night and day operator necessary.
Hiram was expecting me and waved his arms wildly as I stepped off the train, but as he was busy rushing mail, express, and trunks into the baggage car, there was no chance for a handshake for the time being.
The depot looked like the cabin in which De Soto died from malaria and disappointment in 1539, although somewhat modernized and adapted to the needs of railroading.
Quarrytown was a rambling village around D. R. Morgan's General Store, and he was Anna Bell's father. Near the ancient depot was a considerable stone quarry, high clay bluffs, and the Mississippi River. Pickaninnies, starved dogs, mules, razorback hogs and malaria seemed to thrive along with the willow and pepper trees. The question of moment was how long would Hiram Strong, Jr., late of Broadway, Sherry's, and Delmonico's, be satisfied here? In the place of porterhouse steaks there would be sow-belly and corn bread, and a very dry section to live in.