The young engineer pulled on through the valley at top speed and then charged the hill to Oxford with four minutes to spare. Perfect running of a passenger train means keeping at an exact and harmonious speed for the entire distance between stops. In this case, however, Ralph knew that if he had not gained something on the schedule before striking the Oxford hill he never would have made that stop, as he did, exactly on the schedule moment. The worst of the run for the Midnight Flyer was then behind him. CHAPTER XVII MORE DISCIPLINE That run on the Midnight Flyer was a memorable one for Ralph Fairbanks, not alone because of the importance of the train to the schedule of the division, but because of the mental strain he was under all the way. The general manager’s congratulatory wire that was put into his hand when he climbed aboard his engine for the return trip from Hammerfest, of course pleased him; but the young railroader felt that there was something more due any engineer who pulled that Midnight Flyer and got it into the western terminal on time, as he had. Up in those offices overlooking the Rockton yard, Ralph as chief of the train dispatching crew for the division, had got a little out of touch with the engineers and firemen. He acknowledged it now. He had been complaining because many of the hard-working mechanics had not seemed to do their best in handling the division trains. Back in the same harness that they wore, Ralph could appreciate their difficulties again. “And that’s the matter with Barton Hopkins,” thought the young fellow. “He isn’t as fit as I am, for instance, to manage these men. He never was an engineer, or sprayed coal into a firebox. No, sir! He doesn’t know a thing about this end of railroading, save by theory. “And mere theory is bound to get a man in wrong. Practise is the thing! I wonder how Hopkins will come out of this, if the strike becomes general? Why, the directors and stockholders who praise him so now will fairly crucify him if things go wrong and he is shown to be in any way at fault.” Ralph believed thoroughly that Barton Hopkins was at fault. Every man he talked to on the run was criticizing Supervisor Hopkins. “They’re all knocking the super. The anvil chorus on Hopkins’ past, present, and future seems to be the most popular number on the division program,” Ralph said to his two firemen. “Should think you would join in, Fairbanks,” said one of them. “You’ve got little to thank him for.” “There is something bigger than Barton Hopkins to consider,” replied Ralph. “Sure! The rules of the Brotherhood,” was the quick reply. “No! The welfare of the road. The Great Northern has supported me for some years. I mean to support it. When I can’t do so I’ll resign and get another job. But I won’t bite the hand that has fed me for so long.” “You would not strike, then, even if the Brotherhood ordered it?” asked one of the firemen.