THE PRESIDENT OF THE ROAD.
“What does all this mean, Wolf?” said Mr. Tommy Toppleton to me, after
the stockholders’ meeting had adjourned.
“What does it mean?” I repeated, moved by the condescension of the high
and mighty scion of the house of Toppleton in addressing me, and, in
some sense, making a confidant and adviser of me.
Probably he came to me because he was rather confused in regard to the
identity of his friends. As president of the Lake Shore Railroad, he
had rendered a decision from which the stockholders had appealed, and
he had been beaten by a vote of four to one. He was vexed and mortified
at the result, and was disposed to regard it as a personal insult. He
had always had his own way, and could see no reason why he should not
always have it. In the excitement of building the road, the students
had regarded him as the representative of his father, who was doing
an immensely great thing to add to the popularity of the Toppleton
Institute; and his offensive manner, his domineering, haughty, and even
tyrannical conduct, had hardly been noticed. But, after the road had
lost its novelty, the lordly demeanor of the little magnate was not
relished, and he was beginning to feel the effects of his conduct.
I did not like to tell Tommy even as much of the real truth as I knew
myself, and the leaders of the opposition had not taken me into their
confidence. It was an ungracious task to inform the high-spirited,
uncurbed, and wilful young gentleman that his fellow-students were
dissatisfied with him, and that an attempt to run him out of his office
was to be made. But Tommy put the question squarely to me, and I could
not well avoid the issue. He evidently regarded me as a dependent of
the house of Toppleton, whose will could only be the reflection of that
of his employers.
“What does it mean? That’s what I want to know,” added Tommy, his face
lighted up with an excitement which threatened a storm.
“The fellows seem to be disposed to do things as other corporations
do,” I replied, cautiously, for I did not wish to rouse the sleeping
lion in the little lord.
“Wasn’t I fair and impartial?” demanded he.
“I think you were,” I replied; and I did not lose sight of the fact
that he had decided against Barnscott, whose motion he favored, when he
gave the floor to Wetherstane.
“The stockholders voted me down just as though they meant to insult
me,” continued Tommy, smartly. “Do you know why they want to go to
Grass Springs to elect officers?”
“For the sake of the dinner, I suppose,” I answered. “But, Tommy, there
is going to be an opposition to you, at this election.”
“An opposition to me!” exclaimed the president, amazed at the
intelligence.
“I have only heard it whispered among the fellows.”
“What have I done that the fellows should be down upon me?”
“I don’t know that I ought to say anything about it, Tommy. It is
really none of my business. I shall vote for you.”
“If you know anything about it, tell me,” continued Tommy, rather
imperiously.
“I only know that there is another ticket for directors in the field.”
“And my name is not upon it?”
“No, it is not.”
Tommy stamped his foot upon the floor, and looked decidedly ugly. I was
rather sorry that I had said anything, though it was better for him to
be prepared for the result before it was announced.
“Wolf, I don’t blame you for this; but I want you to tell me all about
it,” said he, after he had partially choked down his wrath. “What have
I done to set the fellows against me? What do they say about it?”
“They say you put on airs--that you order them around as though you
were their master.”
“Well, I am president of the road,” said he, as if this were a
sufficient explanation; and I think he really considered it very
unreasonable in the students to object to his conduct.
“I only tell you what the fellows say.”
“Wolf, do _you_ think I have put on airs?” demanded he.
“So far as I am concerned myself, I haven’t a word of fault to find,” I
replied, evasively.
“You! Well, you are only a hired hand,” added he, with refreshing
candor. “Do you think I have treated the fellows badly?”
“Not badly; but you know they are rich men’s sons, and consider
themselves as good as you are.”
“But my father built this road, and pays for everything. Not a single
one of these fellows ever gave a cent for anything.”
“I don’t believe the money makes any difference.”
“Why don’t you say I’m to blame, if you think so?” snapped he,
impatiently.
“I believe if you had not been quite so sharp with the fellows they
would have liked you better,” I answered, desperately. “You tell them
to do this and that, and order them just as though they were servants
in your father’s house. They won’t stand it. They are not paid for
their work, as I am.”
“Thank you; you are very complimentary. I suppose you will call me a
tyrant next,” sneered he.
“I am only telling you what I have heard the fellows say,” I meekly
responded.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” snarled he; and I was fully
convinced then, if I had not been before, that honest counsel to such a
person is a thankless task.
Tommy walked up and down the hall precisely as his magnificent father
would have done, if he had been vexed and disconcerted. I had told him
wholesome truth, for which he was not grateful to me.
“Come with me, Wolf,” said he, imperiously, after he had considered the
matter a while.
The rest of the students were scattered about the building and
play-ground of the institute, talking over the meeting, or
electioneering for the great occasion, in the afternoon, if Major
Toppleton did not veto the proceedings. I followed Tommy over the lawn,
where many of the students were assembled in groups. He took no notice
of them, unless it was to cast angry and scornful glances at them. He
led the way to his father’s house, where we found the major in his
library.
“Father, we may as well burst up the Lake Shore Railroad, so far as
the students are concerned,” said the irate and disgusted president of
the company.
“What’s the matter now, Tommy?” asked the major, looking up from the
newspaper he was reading.
“They are going to run me off the ticket for directors,” growled Tommy,
dropping heavily into an arm-chair, as though the end of the world had
come, and there was nothing more to live for. “They say I have been
putting on airs.”
“Perhaps you have, Tommy!” suggested the major, who, for some reason or
other, was disposed to receive the intelligence very good-naturedly.
“I am the president of the road, and have only done my duty. I’m not
going down on my knees to those who are under me.”
“But a certain degree of gentlemanly forbearance and consideration is
prudent in business relations,” added the major. “Now let me hear what
the matter is, and we will see what can be done.”
Between Tommy and myself we told the great man what had transpired at
the hall, and announced the vote of the stockholders, relating to the
adjourned meeting and the dinner. The major actually laughed at the
impudence of the boys. He was a politic man when policy paid better
than violence. There was certainly a breeze among the stockholders of
the Lake Shore Railroad. Tommy was in peril of losing his office, which
would leave the owner of the road without a suitable representative in
the board of directors. The movement must be checked, or the connection
of the Institute with the road must be dissolved.
The major was ready to act. The vote of the stockholders was to be
carried out in substance. A free train to Grass Spring was to be run at
one o’clock; and, at the invitation of the president, a supper was to
be served at the hotel after the meeting. This course would conciliate
the refractory stockholders, and save the present directors from the
accident of being turned out of office. Tommy seemed to be of the
opinion that the stockholders ought to be compelled to vote for him,
rather than coaxed into it; but he yielded to the superior experience
of his father, and consented to feast the electors. He was instructed
to invite all the students to the supper, and to have it specially
understood that it was his entertainment, not the company’s.
There was yet another question to be settled by the students, but
not in their capacity as stockholders. The military department of
the Institute was still maintained, in spite of the novelty of the
railroad. The boys were organized as a battalion of two companies, and
it is hardly necessary to say that Tommy was the major. It was the
custom of the Institute to camp out for a week during what was called
the home vacation, because the students did _not_ generally go home
during this period. The stockholders’ meeting was held on the Saturday
preceding this vacation, and it was necessary to determine where and
when the camp should be formed, for this question was left to the
students. It was proposed to hold the meeting after the stockholders
adjourned, when the major would call the battalion to order.
It was possible, if not probable, that the camping out would be
dispensed with the present year, for the new locomotive and cars had
just arrived, and were lodged in the houses erected for them. The major
had instructed me--or rather the board of directors had done so--to run
the new engine on Monday. It was thought that the students would not
be inclined to camp out with this new excitement in store for them.
The road was in order as far as Grass Springs, and in a few weeks it
would be completed to Ucayga. I ran regular trips to the former place,
every two hours, on the dummy, which was now so degraded by contrast
with the locomotive, that it was of small account. But the students did
not seem to feel that degree of interest in the new order of things
which had been expected. They were excited when the locomotive and cars
arrived; shouted, yelled, and screamed till they were hoarse; but the
fact that the engine was not to be used as a plaything by any one who
desired to do so, operated as a damper upon the boys. Perhaps Tommy,
more than any one else, was responsible for this state of things; for
his domineering spirit had disgusted his fellow-students.
In my next trip on the dummy Major Toppleton went to Grass Springs, and
ordered the supper for the stockholders. At one o’clock I was in the
cab of the new locomotive, which, in compliment to the occasion, was
to make its first trip to the Springs. It was a beautiful machine, of
about two thirds of the ordinary size. The cars were of a corresponding
size. Never was an engineer prouder and happier than I was when I ran
the engine out of the house. I had borrowed some flags and decorated
it for the great occasion. Faxon was with me in the cab, though Lewis
Holgate, the son of Christy, who had robbed my father, was employed as
fireman.
At the appointed time the students appeared, and, after giving sundry
cheers for the train, took their seats, and I started the locomotive.
I felt like a real engineer then. The boys screamed as the train moved
off, and in half an hour we put on the brakes at Grass Springs. The
students hastened to the hotel where the meeting and the supper were to
take place. Leaving the engine in charge of Lewis, I hastened to the
meeting, where I intended to electioneer for Tommy Toppleton.