"Learn!" chuckled Griscom—"why! the way you worked that lever"
"Which you needn't dwell on," interrupted the master mechanic, a harsh disciplinarian on principle. "He had no right in your locomotive, I suppose you know, and rules say you are liable for a lay off."
Griscom kept on chuckling.
"We'll forget that, though. Where do you want to start, Fairbanks?"
"Right at the bottom, sir," answered Ralph modestly.
"In the roundhouse?"
"Yes, sir."
The master mechanic drew a card from his pocket, wrote a few lines, and handed it to Ralph.
"Give that to Tim Forgan," he said simply.
To Ralph, just then, he was the greatest man in the world—he who could in ten words command the position that seemed to mean for him the entrance into the grandest realm of industry, ambition and opulence.
