The Elk Mountain pilot., 1921-04-28

it by the light of the gauge lamp.
Gofcher came back pretty soon with
his clearance. which gave him the
right to run to Arroyo as first section
of Number Eighteen.
The boss blew up like Roman
candle when he saw that train order.
1t meant that we were to take the
siding at Arroyo with the freight that
was just behind us, and wait there
for the westbound FLYER" the FLYER"
being due in Portal City from the east
at 9:15. and due to leave there, COM
ing west. at 9.20. / didn't realize at
the moment why the boss was so
sizzling anxious to cut out the delay
which would be imposed on us by the
wait at Arroyo. but the anxiety was
there, all right.
, BILLY, it's eighteen miles to Portal,
and you've got twenty minutes to make
1t against the Flyers leaving time"
he ripped out. Can you do it7'
Gorcher said he could, II he didn't
have to lose any more, time getting
his order changed.
Let her go!" snapped the boss.
I'm taking all the responsibility"
That was enough for Gorcher, and
the way we hustled out Of the Banta
yard was a caution. In exactly eight
minutes out Of Banta we tore over the
switches at Arroyo. That left us ten
miles to go, and twelve minutes In
which to make them. 1t was easy.
A yardman let us in ON the spur at
the end Of the headquarters building.
and the boss was OF In half jiffy.
Come along with me, Jimmie" he
commanded quickly, and couldn't
imagine why he was in such tearing
hurry. Pushing through the platform
crowd, made up Of people who were
getting of the Flyer" and those who
were waiting to get on, he led the way
straight upstairs to our offices.
OF course. there was nobody there
at that time of night, and the place
was all dark until we switched the
electrics on. There was a little lava
tory off the third room Of the suite,
and Mr.. Norcross went in and washed
his face and hands. In q minute or
two he came out, put on his Office
coat, opened up his desk. lighted a
cigar and sat down at the desk as
though he had Just come in from a
late dinner at the club. And still he
had me guessing.
The guess didn't have to wait long.
While / was making bluff at uncov-
ering my typewriter and getting ready
for business there was heavy step
in the hall, and red-faced, portly
gentleman with fat eyes and little
close-cropped English side-whiskers
came bulging in. He had light top
coat on his arm. and his tan gloves
were an exact match for his spats.
GOOD evening"" he said, nodding
sort of brusquely at the boss. I'm
looking for the general managers Of
fice."
you've found It," said the boss,
crisply.
first at me and then at Mr.. Norcross.
You are the chief clerk, perhaps?'
he suggested, pitching the query in
the general direction of the big desk.
Hardly" was the curt rejoinder.
MY name is Norcross. What can l
do for your"
If l didn't hate slang SO bad. I
should say that the portly man looked
as II he were going to throw fit.
"Not-not Graham Norcross7" he
stammered.
swell, yes; am 'Graham'-to my
friends. Anything elser
The portly gentleman subsidized into
a chair.
There is some misunderstanding
about this." he said. his voice thicken-
ing q little-with anger. thought.
my name is Dismuke. and am the
general manager Of this railroad"
II wouldn't dispute the name. but
your title is away off," said Mr.. Nor