"When the night came for the big time at the Town Hall, it was a regular 'standing-room only' business. The boss kept in the background while the great minds of the township did their best. When it came his turn he clamped across the platform like an avenging angel. He is a big fellow, and that night he looked seven-foot-six, as he stuck his long fingers out over that intelligent body politic and asked what it meant by trying to cow the only first-class railroad that had ever had enough energy to put its rails down in that township. Then he calls up an engineer from our construction department. "'Mr. Blinkins,' he says, in a voice that you could have heard across the public square, 'this railroad has decided to temporize no longer in this highway crossing situation on its lines. How much will it cost to put a subway under our track at this crossing?' "The engineer dove into his drawings and said: 'It'll be quite a big job, and we'll have to cut quite a way into some of the front yards to get the foundations for our abutments. My estimate of the cost of the proposed improvement is $160,000.' "Then it was the boss's turn again. 'Under the state law, work on abolishing a grade crossing begins by the railroad expressing its willingness,' he told them. 'The cost is divided--half being borne by the railroad, the other half being divided between the township and the State. West Lyndonbrook's share will reach $40,000.' Forty thousand dollars--why $40,000 would have built either the new union school or the waterworks that that burg had been hankering for and thought it couldn't afford. When the boss breathed about that $40,000 it started the old feuds between the waterworks crowd and the school crowd. They forgot all about the crossing and our sin-filled railroad, and got to hammering anew on the old issue. We slinked out while they were still at it--had the car hooked on to the rear of thirty-eight and got started while the oratory was taking a fresh turn. "The boss? The boss is a diplomat. That's how he keeps his job." CHAPTER XIII THE SUPERINTENDENT HIS HEADSHIP OF THE TRANSPORTATION ORGANISM--HIS MANNER OF DEALING WITH AN OFFENDED SHIPPER--HIS MANNER WITH COMMUTERS--HIS MANNER WITH A SPITEFUL "KICKER"--A DISHONEST CONDUCTOR WHO HAD A "PULL"--A SYSTEM OF DEMERITS FOR EMPLOYEES--DEALING WITH DRUNKARDS--WITH SELFISH AND COVETOUS MEN. If the general manager is king in modern railroad operation, the division superintendent is not less than prince. His principality is no mean state. It may consist of some 500 miles of what he modestly admits is the "best sort of railroad in all this land"; or it may be a little stretch of 100 miles, or even less, losing its way back among the hills; but it _is_ a principality, and his rule is undisputed. If ever it be questioned, it will then be high time for him to abdicate.