“No. But he’s been bitten by the efficiency bug. The swelling is a terrible one,” said Ralph, smiling again. “Mr. Hopkins can’t seem to see things at all from the men’s standpoint. As I said before, an inability to see the effect of an order on the men’s minds is the germ of most friction between the laborers and the railroad heads. McCarrey is a bad man. He wants to lead a strike. Naturally a strike will put a lot of money in McCarrey’s hands. These strike leaders do as they please with strike funds—there is never any check on them. “Besides, as I believe, he has a personal enmity for Mr. Hopkins. Somewhere in the East, where Hopkins came from, McCarrey got a grudge against him.” “Yes, I understand Barton Hopkins was in the middle of some trouble on the Eastern Shore Railroad. He is a stormy petrel. But he is making good here. He has saved us money,” reiterated the general manager. “Well, if money is more to the Great Northern than a loyal band of employees,” said Ralph with some bitterness, as he got up from his chair, “then you have got just what you want in Mr. Hopkins. I’m telling you that I see trouble ahead. And it is coming soon.” Ralph Fairbanks felt deeply regarding the situation which had arisen in Rockton. When he walked down past the railroad shops a little later on his way home and looked in at the open windows, he could not fail to notice that the shopmen were talking together in groups instead of being busy at their various jobs. “Looks bad,” muttered Ralph. “I hated to knock the new super. Especially when he has got such a pretty daughter,” and he smiled reminiscently. Suddenly he started and then quickened his steps. Ahead of him he saw a trimly dressed figure crossing the railroad at Hammerby Street. He could not mistake the girl. Not when she had been in his mind the previous instant. Miss Cherry Hopkins was a pronounced blonde. It was at the time when bobbed hair was popular, and bobbed hair added to Cherry’s chic appearance. She was slim, and of good figure. She wore a silk sweater, a sport skirt, and a hat that was in keeping. The girl crossed the tracks and reached the sidewalk on the other side. There were no dwellings near; only warehouses. And save for a group of roughly dressed men loitering behind the flagman’s shanty, there were few people near the crossing. Suddenly Ralph saw something that caused him to dart forward, shouting angrily: “Look out, Miss Cherry! Look out!” The girl flashed a look behind her. Fortunately she dodged involuntarily at Ralph Fairbanks’ cry, for the next instant a missile flew over her shoulder and crashed against the end of the warehouse. Had it struck the girl it would have hurt her seriously. CHAPTER II DISCIPLINE