“But if I have to take Byron off for incompetency, and that certainly will kill the old man, whom shall I put in his place? Every good man is needed. This blamed new eight hour rule—well, it’s good in some ways, of course; but it makes us short-handed.” The official went away grumbling. He, too, had his troubles. He had to take his orders from the supervisor and some of them were not to his taste. It is said that only the weight of the last straw broke the camel’s back. It needed some particular event to start the conflagration that promised to overwhelm the division, if not the whole Great Northern system. It was as small a thing as the idea of the change in the style of the men’s working caps that Ralph had put before the general manager some weeks before. A new order was pasted on the shop board one evening—an order promulgated by the supervisor and from his office. It was a notice to the effect that the call boys, or others, were not to be sent out to the lunch places near the shops to purchase lunches for the men who wanted them, save in the men’s own time. That meant that nobody could send for anything to eat and drink until the whistle blew for recess. As the lunch places and delicatessen stores were sure to be crowded at those particular hours, either all the workmen would have to bring cans, or those that did not must wait half or three-quarters of an hour before they ate. The boys who did these errands for the shop-men were paid so meagerly that their time cost the company but little. It was certainly a picayune piece of business. But probably Mr. Hopkins had figured it out to his own satisfaction that several dollars a year might be saved to the Great Northern. Somebody read the inconspicuous notice on the board soon after the night crew started working in the shops. Ralph chanced to be in the train dispatchers’ offices when he heard the roar of the machinery in the nearest shop subside and finally cease entirely. He went to the window and looked out. “What’s happened, Chief?” asked his assistant, sitting at the telegraph instrument. “I can’t make it out. Why! there goes Benson, the stationary engineer. He’s shut down the power! Why, Johnny, they are crowding out of the shop!” “Strike!” ejaculated the operator, and opened his key. “Wait! Let me be sure,” cried Ralph, and darted to the door and down the stairs to the yard. It was only a few rods to the first shop. He saw the men, angry and blusterous, crowding out of the doors like disturbed ants. He found one coherent man whom he knew, and got the story of the supervisor’s latest order. “Hold on! What are you fellows going to do?” Ralph demanded of this man. “We’re going to hold a meeting. Beeman’s Hall. We’ll stand no more of this blamed foolishness. Anyhow, we won’t stand for that cut in wages they say is coming. I tell you, Fairbanks; the whole road is going to the dogs.” “And you propose to help it go there, do you?” Ralph demanded.