towerman. "Listen, Fairbanks: 'Technical Topography of High Grade Elevations in Asiatic Railways.' Oh, me! Oh, my! Slavin, you take the cake!"
"Mr. Knight, I didn't come here to have my feelings trampled on," spoke Slavin in tones of offended dignity.
"Right, old son. You came here to show how hard you'd got the railroad fever—hey, you spoony? Why, it's sticking out all over you. I had it once. They all get it at first. Why, you ambitious young lunkhead," cried Knight, slapping Slavin's shoulder with a hearty whack that nearly knocked him over, "you're simply tickled to death about something, and I can tell it in three words."
"What is it, Mr. Knight?" asked Ralph innocently.
"'Got a job!'"
"Good!" cried Ralph, grasping Slavin's hand in congratulation. "Is it true?"
"Why, yes, it is," answered Slavin proudly. "So, what's the harm in trying to post up, hey?"
"My son," observed Knight in a patriarchal fashion, "posting up and looking railroady is all right, but there's many a long, tough reach in plain buttons, and a long distance away from combustion and high grades, before you even
