“Yes,” he said; “that’s what I kin. I got an extry pass from th’ superintendent. I told him I had a boy who wanted t’ see th’ road because he was goin’ t’ be superintendent hisself, some day. He said he guessed he knew th’ boy’s name without bein’ told, an’ wrote out th’ pass.” Allan flushed high with pleasure. “That was nice of him,” he said. “Yes,” said Jack; “an’ yet I think he was figgerin’ on helpin’ th’ road, too. Y’ see, whenever a bright feller like you comes along an’ shows that he’s steady an’ can be depended on, he never gits t’ work on section very long. They need boys like that up in th’ offices. That’s where th’ brains o’ th’ road are. In fact, th’ office itself is th’ brain o’ th’ whole system, with wires runnin’ out to every part of it an’ bringin’ back word what’s goin’ on, jest like a doctor told me once th’ nerves do in our bodies.” “Yes,” nodded Allan; “but what has that got to do with my going over the road to-morrow?” “Jest this,” said Jack; “before a feller’s fit to hold a job in th’ offices,—a job as operator or despatcher, that is,—and work one o’ them little wires, he’s got t’ know th’ road better’n he knows th’ path in his own back yard. He’s got t’ know every foot of it—where th’ grades are an’ how heavy they are; where th’ curves are, an’ whether they’re long or short; where every sidin’ is, an’ jest how many cars it’ll hold; where th’ track runs through a cut, an’ where it comes out on a fill; where every bridge and culvert is—in fact, he’s got t’ know th’ road so well that when he’s ridin’ over it he kin wake up in th’ night an’ tell by th’ way th’ wheels click an’ th’ cars rock jest exactly where he is!” At the moment Allan thought that Jack was exaggerating; but he was to learn that there was in all this not the slightest trace of exaggeration. And he was to learn, too, that upon the accuracy of this minute knowledge the safety of passenger and freight train often depended. They sat on the porch again that evening, while Mary rocked Mamie to sleep and Jack smoked his pipe. Always below them in the yards the little yard-engines puffed up and down, placing the cars in position in the trains—cars laden with coal and grain for the east; cars laden with finished merchandise for the west; the farmer and miner exchanging his product for that of the manufacturer. Only there was no Reddy to come and whistle at the gate, and after awhile they walked over to his house to find out how he was. Mrs. Magraw let them in. Her stout Irish optimism had come back again, for Reddy was better. “Though he’s still a little quare,” she added. “He lays there with his oies open, but he don’t seem t’ notice much. Th’ docther says it’ll be a day or two afore he’s hisself ag’in.” “Well, I’m glad it’s no worse,” said Jack. “We can’t afford to lose Reddy.”