The last spike, and other railroad storiesWarman, Cy
General
The last spike, and other railroad stories
Warman, Cy
American fiction -- 20th century; Railroad stories
"Well, sir, can you finish this job and have steam up here on the first
of January?"
The Englishman blushed, for he was embarrassed, and glanced at the wood
boss. Then, sweeping the almost empty shop with his eye, he said
something about a foreman who was in charge of the work. "Damn the
foreman," said the stranger; "I'm talking to you."
The young man blushed again, and said he could work twelve or fourteen
hours a day for a time if it were necessary, but he didn't like to make
any rash promises about the general result.
"Now look here," said the well-dressed man, "I want you to take charge
of this job and finish it; employ as many men as you can handle, and
blow a whistle here on New Year's morning--do you understand?"
The Englishman thought he did, but he could hardly believe it. He
glanced at the wood boss, and the wood boss nodded his head.
"I shall do my best," said the Englishman, taking courage, "but I should
like to know who gives these orders."
"I'm the General Manager," said the man; "now get a move on you," and
he turned and walked out.
It is not to be supposed that the General Manager saw anything
remarkable about the young man, save that he was six feet and had a good
face. The fact is, the wood foreman had boomed the Englishman's stock
before the Manager saw him.
The path of the Englishman was not strewn with flowers for the next few
months. Any number of men who had been on the road when he was in the
English navy-yards felt that they ought to have had this little
promotion. The local foremen along the line saw in the young Englishman
the future foreman of the new shops, and no man went out of his way to
help the stranger. But in spite of all obstacles, the shop grew from day
to day, from week to week; so that as the old year drew to a close the
machinery was getting into place. The young foreman, while a hard
worker, was always pleasant in his intercourse with the employees, and
in a little while he had hosts of friends. There is always a lot of
extra work at the end of a big job, and now when Christmas came there
was still much to do. The men worked night and day. The boiler that was
to come from Chicago had been expected for some time. Everything was in
readiness, and it could be set up in a day; but it did not come.
Tracer-letters that had gone after it were followed by telegrams;
finally it was located in a wreck out in a cornfield in Illinois on the
last day of the year.
A great many of the officials were away, and the service was generally
demoralized during the holidays, so that the appropriation for which the
Englishman was working at M. had for the moment been forgotten; the
shops were completed, the machinery was in, but there was no boiler to
boil water to make steam.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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