On the Iron at Big CloudPackard, Frank L. (Frank Lucius)
General
On the Iron at Big Cloud
Packard, Frank L. (Frank Lucius)
Canadian fiction -- 20th century; Railroad stories; Short stories, Canadian
For the rest of the morning Holman nursed his injuries, but at one
o’clock he was at his desk again. Five minutes afterward Rafferty came
in. He was not a pretty sight with his cut lip and battered eye as
he limped past both Spence and Holman. With a vindictive glare at the
latter he marched straight across the room to where Carleton sat. He
leaned both hands on the super’s desk.
“Ut’ll be just a show-down, Mr. Carleton, that’s all there is to ut. Me
or him, which?” he announced.
Carleton tilted his chair back, put his feet up on the desk and his
thumbs in the armholes of his vest. “State your case; Rafferty,” he said
calmly.
“Case!” Rafferty spluttered. “Case is ut? I’m sick av bein’ bossed bye
kids out av school that was buildin’ blocks whin I was buildin’ enjines.
I quit or he does!” Rafferty jerked his thumb in Holman’s direction.
“Is that all you have to say, Rafferty?”
“That’s about the size av ut.”
“Very well, Rafferty, you can get your time,” said Carleton quietly.
For a moment Rafferty stared as though he had not heard aright, then
he swung round on his heel only to turn again and face the super with
a short laugh. “All right, Mr. Carleton, you’re the docthor. It’s
satisfied I am. Whin I go out, every bloomin’ man in the shops ‘ull go
out wid me!”
Carleton’s feet came off the desk like a shot, his chair came down to
the floor with a bang, and the next instant he was standing in front of
the boss fitter.
“See here, Rafferty,” he blazed, “you know me--the men know me. While
I’ve held the bank there’s been fifty-two cards in the case and every
mother’s son of you has had a square deal. You know it, don’t you? No
man on this division ever came to me with just cause for complaint but
had a chance to state his grievance on a clear track and no limit on his
permit either. Now, I’m entitled to the same line of treatment I hand
out, and I won’t stand for threats!”
Rafferty shifted uneasily and to hide his confusion reached for his
“chewing.”
“We’ve nothin’ agin you, Mr. Carleton, an’ I’m givin’ you fair warnin’,”
he mumbled as his teeth met in the plug.
“When you make trouble on this division you make trouble for me,” said
Carleton bluntly. “As for warning, I give you warning now that if you
start any disturbance in those shops it will be the worse for you. Now
go!”
They watched him through the windows as he crossed the tracks. Finally,
as he disappeared inside the shops, Carleton turned with a grave face.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a bad business,” he said.
“You don’t mean to say,” Holman burst out, “that the men are fools
enough to quit just because one man with a grouch says so, do you?”
“I told you that you didn’t know the class of men out here--they’re
partisan to the core--it’s bred in them. I’m not blaming you,
Holman--not for a minute! As I said this morning, I’ve seen it coming
for a long while--long before Williams gave up the ghost. Now it’s here,
we’ll face the music, what?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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