T

HE Division Superintendent was making his monthly inspection trip. He had as his guest the Biggest Shipper, who was finding the science of railroad operation, as magnified by the plate glass windows of the Old Man's private car, almost as interesting as the art of manufacturing automobiles. The Old Man's secretary came in with a pouch of messages and smoothed out. this telegram under the focus of their eyes:

"YELLOW BLUFF, DEC. 10. "Div. Supt. en route:

"Engineer Watts, Fireman Lukens, and Brakeman Gifford on engine four three one freight train one two five found Moon Creek trestle on fire. Applied emergency stopping train half car length from trestle. Engine to avoid stopping in flames cut loose and crossed trestle at high speed then backed up cautiously and extinguished fire with engine hose. Crew reinforced trestle timbers and train proceeded. Loss of time forty minutes."

"Here's excitement!" cried the Biggest Shipper. "But while that engine was crossing the burning trestle where were the three men who had been in the cab?" The secretary smiled decorously. The Old Man shook in his wicker chair, then exploded: "Still in the cab, of course. Did you suppose they would be out straddling the boiler?"

"I supposed they would be jumping to avoid being carried into the flames,' the Biggest Shipper snapped. “Why in the name of Heaven did they remain in the cab when the engine was likely to catch fire, even if the burning timbers didn't let it fall through the bridge?"

"I suppose," the Old Man said soberly, "that seemed the simplest way of keeping a little sand on the rails."

Puzzled wrinkles ridged the Biggest Shipper's face. "I've got a shooting

By Rufus

preserve on Moon Creek and I know the track along there is level. What was the need of sand on the rails?"

"You and I are not talking of the same kind of sand," replied the Old Man with a sigh that was like an air-brake being tested. "The sand I mean is not carried in the dome of the engine, but somewhere in the dome of the engineer. Let me tell you the biggest secret of the railroad business. If we could not get men of sand for engineers, conductors, and brakemen, train operation would be so disastrous that public indignation would chain our wheels. We will be passing freight One Two Five in an hour and I'll call the engineer aboard."

Engineer Watts, in a siding, was astonished when the private car stopped and the Division Superintendent beckoned him in.

"Tell us about Moon Creek trestle," the Old Man directed when Engineer Watts, wadding his cap like a ball of greasy waste, stood soldier-stiff in the

car.

"Not much to tell. We were doing thirty-five an hour when we came around the curve. I whistled and leaned out to get the first glimpse of the crossing." All of Watts' embarrassment fell from him as he spoke of his train. "The trestle was hidden in smoke. The only flame I could see was leaping up from the timbers underneath. I put the Johnson bar into the reverse and threw on the emergency. We had jammed down to a ten-mile speed when I saw that the engine was going to stop in the fire. The forward brakeman, Gifford, was in the cab. I ordered him to get over the tender and unhook us from the slowing train. As he set the angle cocks and pulled the pin I let the engine shoot ahead. We picked up speed so quickly

Steele

we were doing a forty-mile clip when we went into the smoke. We got across all right, then backed up when we found it was safe and put out the fire. It had not yet eaten through any of the main supports. Our cast-off cars slid up so close in stopping that the first box car caught, but nothing was burned except the paint. When the crew had set in a couple of timbers and planted a flag, we gathered up the train and went on."

"How did you know your engine wouldn't drop through the burning tres

tle?" the Biggest Shipper demanded. "Why," puzzled the engineer, "I guess I didn't know."

"Then why, after you had cut off the train and started the engine for the bridge, didn't you and the fireman jump?"

The lines in Engineer Watts' face crinkled and crooked.

"You get your shoes dusty jumping," he smiled.

"Did the brakeman remain behind with the train after he unhooked you?"

GUARDING THE REAR

Every time the train stops the brakeman has to start back up the road to warn any oncoming traffic..

"I believe not, sir. The forward brakeman's place is on the engine."

The Biggest Shipper pulled out his watch. It was a thin, open-faced, jewelstudded monitor of the seconds. He pressed it on the resisting engineer.

"Don't be afraid to run your train by it; it keeps exact time," he assured Watts. "I present it to you because you have opened my eyes to something that will be worth about a hundred times as much as the watch."

After the engineer had gone back to his cab and the special was again under way, the Biggest Shipper exclaimed:

RESOURCEFULNESS IS A KING PIN

Such men as these get a car moved even if the track is full. In this case a pole held to the engine did the job.

"Now I know about sand!

saw in that engineer just what you meant. Why, I need this quality in my factory as much as you need it on your rails. Where can I go for a thousand of these men of sand?"

The Old Man rocked and teetered until the wicker chair all but went over. "You can go to the devil," at length he sputtered; "but you won't find a thousand of these fellows any more than you'll find one!"

"I won't, eh? Then how do you do it? How do all the railroads find their men of sand?"

"They don't find 'em, you simpleton. They have to gather the raw material and make them to order."

On one of the big Western roads there is a train master who has distinguished himself as a picker and developer of the human raw material. An empty sleeve dating from his conductor days emphasizes his fitness to discuss the hazards of his trade, yet the loss of an arm seems to have worked no actual crippling; when he raises all three fingers of his remaining hand there is not