“You’d better listen to somebody, Mr. Hopkins,” he said doggedly. “I know the boys on the list quite as well as you do—perhaps better, considerin’ I’ve seen many of them growin’ up in the road’s employ. There’s freight engineers, and there’s passenger engineers. Many an engineer tries pulling the varnished cars and is glad to drop back into an easy-going freight run. Though there is little on the division that is really easy-going now.” “Well, well?” said Hopkins, impatiently. Cummings raised his eyebrows and glanced from Bob Adair to Ralph. “There’s not a man on that list as well able to pull Number Two-o-two as old By was, God rest him! And he couldn’t make the grade, as the saying is. This Midnight Flyer is a disgrace to the division!” “What do you mean?” demanded the supervisor angrily. “Just what I say. It is a disgrace. It doesn’t keep to schedule half the time. It is the laughing-stock on the system. You know it. Somebody has got to sit on that bench that can get better time out of the mill than ever it has made yet.” “Well, we cannot think of that now. We have to send out the train. The engineer that can show a card—any engineer—is the one we want, and must have.” He wheeled as though to hurry away on his quest. Cummings tapped him with a finger on the shoulder. “Wait, Mr. Hopkins,” he said. “What is it?” snapped the supervisor. “You’re going right away from about the only fellow that can help you out,” Cummings said with some complacency. “Don’t you see this boy here?” and he clapped a jovial hand upon Ralph’s shoulder. “Oh, I say!” exclaimed the young train dispatcher. “None of that, Mr. Cummings. I am not looking for any more trouble.” But the old station master waved an airy hand. He held Barton Hopkins’ attention. “I know that Ralph is in good standing with the Brotherhood. He is the best little engineman there is on the division. If there is a man to-night can take this train through to Hammerfest anywhere near on time, it is him. The road is like a book to him—— “Ah! what’s the matter with you, boy?” he added, turning to face the young fellow. “What are you—a man, or a monkey, I want to know? What does it matter what people say or think? You are working for the Great Northern and you’ve got the good of the road at heart. Isn’t that so?” “You know it!” exclaimed Ralph, half angrily. “All right. Here is the supervisor. He wants the best man he can get for the job because _he_ is all for the road’s interest——” “I do not know that Fairbanks is fit for any such task,” put in Mr. Hopkins, in his very coldest tone. “I doubt if one so young is fit for any important and responsible position. At least, I am very sure that his exhibition of engine driving in the yard here the other evening does not bear out the ability you claim for him, Cummings.” “What’s that?” demanded the station master, angrily.