"In the fourth place," he added, rising and glancing at his watch, "I'm going to offer you the first positions as operator that are vacant. Now don't thank me," he protested, as exclamations of pleasure burst from the young lips before him. "I don't deserve any thanks. I'm simply looking out for the best interests of the road. We want operators who are more than mere telegraphers--we want men who are equal to an emergency, who have their wits about them, who can think quickly, and who don't get rattled--men like that are a good deal harder to find than you might think. That's the reason we want you two. I don't believe that one boy in a hundred would have had the wit to act as promptly and intelligently as you did last night. Now, I'll let you know--" The door burst suddenly open and a girl rushed in--a girl of perhaps seventeen, with flushed, excited face--the loveliest face, Allan thought, that he had ever seen. "Oh, papa!" she cried. "Our train will start in a minute! We mustn't miss it!" Mr. Heywood laughed and glanced at his watch again. "We won't miss it, Bess," he said. "We've got three minutes and a half. No train has ever started ahead of time on this road since Mr. Round took charge of it. Good-bye, boys," he added, and shook hands with them heartily. "Hold yourselves ready for orders--and meanwhile get all the practice you can. Come, Bess," and the father and daughter went out together, leaving the boys staring after them with a mixture of emotions difficult to describe. CHAPTER VII THE CALL TO DUTY One can easily understand with what enthusiasm Jim Anderson and Allan West continued the study of telegraphy. Here was something worth while, something vital, something with which great things might be accomplished; for surely there are few things in this world greater than the saving of human life. Then, too, there was the protection of the company's property. A collision such as that which had been averted would have demolished engines and cars worth a hundred thousand dollars. Damage suits, destroyed freight, the interruption of traffic, the cost of repairing the right of way, the loss of prestige which attends every great wreck--all these might easily have carried the total loss to a quarter of a million. Yet neither in this accident nor in any other was it the money loss to the company of which the officials thought. They thought only of the danger to the passengers, for the passenger is the road's most sacred trust. In his behalf, the road exacts eternal vigilance from every man in its employ. His safety comes first of all. For it, no railroad man must hesitate to risk his life; nay, if need be, to throw his life away. He enters the service of the road on that condition--and rarely does he fail when the moment of trial comes, as it is sure to come, sooner or later.