The Rainy Day Railroad War | Page 4

the strip of matting that led to the general manager's private office. It was like the Bridge of Sighs to him.
"Parker, eh?" repeated the general manager, whirling in his chair and letting his eyeglasses drop against his plump "front elevation," as Parker whimsically termed it in his thoughts, even in this moment of his distress.
Jerrard gazed at him for a little while, a rather curious expression in his eyes under their shaggy gray brows, then whirled back to his desk and scrabbled among his papers. He drew forth a sheet of memoranda, gave Parker another shrewd glance and inquired:
"Is it true, sir, that you have been interfering in the padrone system of the construction department?"
"I suppose what I did might be termed that, tho I wasn't intending to be meddlesome, Mr. Jerrard."
"Nothing in general instructions, was there, to lead a cub assistant in the engineering corps to revise a boarding house bill of fare?"
"No, sir."
"I find it further mentioned that you were back next day and herded about seventy-five Italians into a victualling camp as you would drive steers to a fodder rack. Don't you know that we reserve that sort of business for a squad of police?"
"Mr. Jerrard," said the young man, recovering some of his self-possession tho his tone was apologetic, "since I have been on the road I saw what happened once when the police came with their clubs and revolvers. There was a free fight and two men were killed. I thought I saw a chance for one man to arbitrate a little difficulty--and arbitration is pretty highly recommended in these days by good authorities. When I found that arbitration didn't make things stay put I meddled once more in order to undo my first mistake--if we may call it that. It probably was a mistake, looked at officially. But you see--" his voice faltered a little, for the manager was surveying him with rather a hard look in his eyes, "I hoped that putting the padrone into line on his food question would prevent a strike; when I drove the men to table I had only the interests of the road at heart, for the strike was then fairly on."
"Well," said the manager, a bit of a smile at the corners of his mouth, "you certainly were not thinking very hard of your own interests when you went into that rabid gang."
"I can see that I made a botch of it generally, Mr. Jerrard. I will save you the trouble of requesting my resignation."
But as he bowed and turned Jerrard spoke sharply.
"Not so fast, young man," he said. "As the executive of the P. K. & R, system it wouldn't be exactly official and proper in me to approve your judgment in that matter of the Italians; but as a man--plain man, now, you understand,--I know grit when I see it and--" he dropped his bluff stiffness got out of his chair and came along and squeezed Parker's muscular arm, "you've got a brand of it that I admire. Yes, I do. No mistake! But that is just between you and me. That is simply my own personal opinion. I don't believe the directors relish the idea of gladiators in the engineering corps. Just respect this little private hint of mine hereafter please."
He surveyed the young man with twinkling and appreciative eyes.
"Parker," he said, "once in a while there comes up in the railroad business a demand for a man who has brains and spunk and muscle all rolled up in one bundle. I haven't tested you out yet on the first named but the chief engineer speaks in your behalf. The last two you certainly have. There's the story of a man who was going home late at night and picked up what he thought was a kitten and found it to be a pole-cat. It was good judgment to set it down again mighty sudden. But the skin was worth something and he resolved to have the skin to pay for the damage. Now President Whittaker and myself have been up in the north woods this season--among the big game, you understand. We picked up what we thought was a kitten. It has turned out to be something else. But we are not going to drop it."
The young engineer was looking at him with puzzled gaze.
"You don't understand a bit of it, do you?" laughed the traffic manager. "Well, I can't explain the thing just yet. I'll simply leave it this way today: Do you want to take a pole-cat and skin it for us? I don't mean by that that it's a job that any enterprising young man should be ashamed or afraid of. It's a job in your line. It's something of close personal interest to the president of this system