“That was Jem Spurling on th’ ingine,” observed Reddy, as they went back to work. “Th’ oldest ingineer on th’ road—an’ th’ nerviest. Thet’s th’ reason he’s got th’ flier. Most fellers loses their nerve after they’ve been runnin’ an ingine a long time, an’ a year ’r two back, Jem got sort o’ shaky fer awhile—slowed down when they wasn’t no need of it, y’ know; imagined he saw things on th’ track ahead, an’ lost time. Well, th’ company wouldn’t stand fer thet, ’specially with th’ flier, an’ finally th’ train-master told him thet if he couldn’t bring his train in on time, he’d have t’ go back t’ freight. Well, sir, it purty nigh broke Jem’s heart. “‘Oi tell y’, Mister Schofield,’ he says t’ th’ train-master, ‘Oi’ll bring th’ train in on toime if they’s a brick house on th’ track.’ “‘All right,’ says Mr. Schofield; ‘thet’s all we ask,’ an’ Jem went down to his ingine. “Th’ next day Jem come into th’ office t’ report, an’ looked aroun’ kind o’ inquirin’ like. “‘Any of it got here yet?’ he asks. “‘Any o’ what?’ asks Mr. Schofield. “‘Any o’ thet coal,’ says Jem. “‘What coal?’ asks Mr. Schofield. “‘Somebody left a loaded coal-car on th’ track down here by th’ chute,’ says Jem. “‘They did?’ “‘Yes,’ says Jem; ‘thought they’d throw me late, most likely; but they didn’t. Oi’m not loike a man what’s lost his nerve—not by a good deal.’ “‘But th’ car—how’d y’ git around it?’ asks Mr. Schofield. “‘Oh, Oi didn’t try t’ git around it,’ says Jem. ‘Oi jest pulled her wide open an’ come through. They’s about a ton o’ coal on top o’ th’ rear coach, an’ Oi thought maybe I’d find th’ rest of it up here. I guess it ain’t come down yit.’ “‘But, great Scott, man!’ says Mr. Schofield, ‘that was an awful risk.’ “‘Oi guess Oi’d better run my ingine down t’ th’ repair shop,’ went on Jem, cool as a cucumber. ‘Her stack’s gone, an’ the pilot, an’ th’ winders o’ th’ cab are busted. But Oi got in on toime.’ “Well, they laid Jem off fer a month,” concluded Reddy, “but they’ve niver said anything since about his losin’ his nerve.” So, through the afternoon, Reddy discoursed of the life of the rail, and told stories grave and gay, related tragedies and comedies, described hair-breadth escapes, and with it all managed to impart to his hearer many valuable hints concerning section work. “Though,” he added, echoing Jack, “it’s not on section you’ll be workin’ all your life! You’ve got too good a head fer that.” “I don’t know,” said Allan, modestly. “This takes a pretty good head, too, doesn’t it?” “It takes a good head in a way; but it’s soon learnt, an’ after thet, all a man has t’ do is t’ keep sober. But this is a, b, c, compared t’ th’ work of runnin’ th’ road. Ever been up in th’ despatcher’s office?” “No,” said Allan. “I never have.” “Well, y’ want t’ git Jack t’ take y’ up there some day; then y’ll see where head-work comes in. I know thet all the trainmen swear at th’ despatchers; but jest th’ same, it takes a mighty good man t’ hold down th’ job.”