"To the extent of seeing that they are O.K. for train movement. My job includes tracks, switches, drains, crossings, switch and semaphore lamps. We get out on our old hand-power Mallet here and make every sort of emergency repair you can think of--and then some more--on telegraph wires, culverts, signals, and the interlocking. We've got to know the time card and keep out of the way of the regular trains. Every little while a special comes along and we have to dump our little Pullman in the ditch--without much time for ceremony. We've got to know as much about flagging as the trainmen. And sometimes we have to act as sextons." "Sextons?" you venture. He thumbs a little notebook. "Last year I performed the last rites over seven cows, two sheep, and a horse. My job has a lot of dimensions." He puts his book back in his pocket and draws out a circular letter which the general manager at headquarters has been sending out to all the track-bosses. He hands it to you, with a grin. It says: More than any other class of employees you have the opportunity of close contact with the farmers who are producing today that which means tonnage and therefore revenue for the company tomorrow. Have you ever thought of cultivating the farmer as he is cultivating the fields? A friendly chat over the fence, a wave of the hand as you pass by, may mean a shipment of corn or cattle--just because you are interested in him. For your company's welfare as well as your own, cultivate the farmer. The railroad can and does do a lot of efficient solicitation through its fixed employees in the field; the opportunities of the station agent in this wise are particularly large. And there is a good deal of real sense in this particular circular. Yet the section-boss seems to regard it as distinctly humorous. "The big boss sits in his office or in his car," is his comment, "and I think he forgets sometimes that he was once a section man himself and working fourteen hours a day. The farmer doesn't have a lot of time for promiscuous conversation, nor do we. We'll wave the hand all right--but a chat over the fence? Along would come my supervisor and I might have a time of it explaining to him that I was trying to sell two tickets to California for the road. No, sir, we're not hanging very much over fences and chatting to farmers. Under the very best conditions we work about ten hours a day. And there are times when a sixteen-hour law, even if we had one, wouldn't be of much account to us." "What times?"