GAINING A FOOTHOLD.
Though he could have eaten more, Rod felt decidedly better for the meal so
unexpectedly secured, and made up his mind that now was the time to see
the superintendent and ask for employment. So he made his way to that
gentleman's office, where he was met by a small boy, who told him that the
superintendent had been there a few minutes before, but had gone away with
President Vanderveer.
"When will he be back?" asked Rod.
"Not till he gets ready," was the reply; "but the best time to catch him
is about five o'clock."
For the next six hours poor Rod wandered about the station and the
railroad yard, with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, feeling about as
lonely and uncomfortable as it is possible for a healthy and naturally
light-hearted boy to feel. He strolled into the station twenty times to
study the slow moving hands of its big clock, and never had the hours
appeared to drag along so wearily. When not thus engaged he haunted the
freight yard, mounting the steps of every caboose he saw, in the hope of
recognizing it. At length, to his great joy, shortly before five o'clock
he saw, through a window set in the door of one of these, the
well-remembered interior in which he had spent the preceding night. He
could not be mistaken, for there lay his own M. I. P. bag on one of the
lockers. But the car was empty, and its doors were locked. Carefully
observing its number, which was 18, and determined to return to it as
quickly as possible, Rod directed his steps once more in the direction of
the superintendent's office.
The same boy whom he had seen in the morning greeted him with an
aggravating grin, and said: "You're too late. The 'super' was here half an
hour ago; but he's left, and gone out over the road. Perhaps he won't be
back for a week."
"Oh!" exclaimed Rod in such a hopeless tone that even the boy's stony
young heart was touched by it.
"Is it R. R. B.?" he asked, meaning, "Are you on railroad business?"
"Yes," answered Rod, thinking his own initials were meant.
"Then perhaps the private secretary can attend to it," said the boy. "He's
in there." Here he pointed with his thumb towards an inner room, "and I'll
go see."
In a moment he returned, saying, "Yes. He says he'll see you if it's R. R.
B., and you can go right in."
Rodman did as directed, and found himself in a handsomely-furnished
office, which, somewhat to his surprise, was filled with cigarette smoke.
In it, with his back turned toward the door, and apparently busily engaged
in writing, a young man sat at one of the two desks that it contained.
"Well, sir," said this individual, without looking up, in a voice intended
to be severe and business-like, but which was somewhat disguised by a
cigarette held between his teeth, "What can I do for you?"
"I came," answered Rod, hesitatingly, "to see if the superintendent of
this road could give me any employment on it."
The words were not out of his mouth, before the private secretary,
wheeling abruptly about, disclosed the unwelcome face of Snyder Appleby.
"Well, if this isn't a pretty go!" he exclaimed, with a sneer. "So you've
come here looking for work, have you? I'd like to know what you know about
railroad business, anyhow? No, sir; you won't get a job on this road, not
if I can help it, and I rather think I can. The best thing for you to do
is to go back to Euston, and make up with the old gentleman. He's soft
enough to forgive anything, if you're only humble enough. As for the idea
of you trying to be a railroad man, it's simply absurd. We want men, not
boys, in this business."
Too surprised and indignant to reply at once to this cruel speech, and
fearful lest he should be unable to control his temper if he remained a
moment longer in the room, Rodman turned, without a word, and hurried from
it. He was choked with a bitter indignation, and could not breathe freely
until he was once more outside the building, and in the busy railroad
yard.
As he walked mechanically forward, hardly noting, in the raging tumult of
his thoughts, whither his steps were tending, a heavy hand was laid on his
shoulder, and a hearty voice exclaimed: "Hello, young fellow! Where have
you been, and where are you bound? I've been looking for you everywhere.
Here's your grip that I was just taking to the lost-parcel room."
It was Brakeman Joe, with Rod's M. I. P. bag in his hand, and his honest,
friendly countenance seemed to the unhappy boy the very most welcome face
he had ever seen. They walked together to caboose Number 18, where Rod
poured into the sympathizing ears of his railroad friend the story of his
day's experience.
"Well, I'll be blowed!" exclaimed Brakeman Joe, using Conductor Tobin's
favorite expression, when the boy had finished. "If that isn't tough luck,
then I don't know what is. But I'll tell you what we'll do. I can't get
you a place on the road, of course; but I believe you are just on time for
a job, such as it is, that will put a few dollars in your pocket, and keep
you for a day or two, besides giving you a chance to pick up some
experience of a trainman's life."
"Oh, if you only will!----" began the boy, gratefully.
"Better wait till you hear what it is, and we see if we can get it,"
interrupted Joe. "You see the way of it is this, there was a gent around
here awhile ago with a horse, that he wants to send out on our train, to
some place in the western part of the State. I don't know just where it's
going, but his brother is to meet it at the end of our run, and take
charge of it from there. Now the chap that the gent had engaged to look
after the horse that far, has gone back on him, and didn't show up here as
he promised, and the man's looking for somebody else. We'll just go down
to the stock-yard, and if he hasn't found anybody yet, maybe you can get
the job. See?"
Half an hour later it was all arranged. The gentleman was found, and had
not yet engaged any one to take the place of his missing man. He was so
pleased with Rod's appearance, besides being so thoroughly satisfied by
the flattering recommendations given him by Brakeman Joe, and the master
of the stock-yard, who had noticed the boy in the morning, that he readily
employed him, offering him five dollars for the trip.
So Rod's name was written on the way-bill, he helped get the horse, whose
name was Juniper, comfortably fixed in the car set apart for him, and then
he gladly accepted the gentleman's invitation to dine with him in a
restaurant near by. There he received his final instructions.