Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 29: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE TRAIN EXPECTER. But the forests had long been ex- hausted now and only memories re- mained to remind one of better days. The railroad was not more than a hundred miles in length. It ran from the International line up into the in- terior of the Adirondacks and connect- ed with one of the nation’s great trans- portation systems. Its passenger coaches were of an ancient type with only iron railed plat- forms at each end, instead of inclosed vestibules of modern cars, and, while. they were controlled with modern air- brakes, their interiors were still lighted with kerosene lamps. The engines that pulled these cars were stubby, awkward looking affairs with four engine truck wheels and four drivers, the rear two directly beneath the cab in place of trailer wheels. The freight engines were about the size of ordinary switch engines, ex- cept that they were equipped with two engine truck wheels, whereas a yard engine had none. It required two of them to pull a train of twenty or thirty cars up over the mountains. Old Colonel Hacket was hardly breaking even with his antiquated plaything, but he had made something of a pile in the good old days, and he hated like sin to deprive the wilderness villages which he served of their daily transportation. When Johnny had been at Richville a week he arrived at a conclusion. “Something,” said Johnny, “has got to be done about this.” It may be gathered that Johnny did not like his job. He liked railroading all right, but even with all the multt- tude of details of his position he could not keep himself busy. And he had to keep busy. He was a short little man, slight and small boned. But he was plump. His face was round and fat, and it seemed he could never find a pair of trousers the legs of, which were large enough to hide the contours of his thighs. His movements were more or less 595 spasmodic, though more graceful and concordant than that word implies. When he moved, he moved all over. He was habitually quick both in thought and speech, though his tongue was not what is commonly known as sharp. He would sit at his desk in the bay window of the ticket office, facing the tracks, with his typewriter and tele- graph key before him, and get hot under the collar because he had noth- ing to do. The telegraph key clicked constantly, but it was very seldom they were calling him. The train came down out of the mountains in the morning and re- turned at night, but if any passengers got off or on it was an event. In fact, the mere coming of the train was an event in itself and was attended by a good share of Richville’s population. It was the only occurrence in town— the coming of the train twice a day— except an occasional fire or a fight. The people of Richville never asked if the train were late. They asked: ‘* How late is it?” And Johnny’s un- official title was the train expecter, which is self-explanatory. Colonel Hacket practically lived in his private car; his office was on wheels. His sole traveling compan- ions, inasmuch as his wife was dead, were his private secretary and a col- ored porter who doubled as cook and waiter. The colonel generally covered his railroad about once a month, stopping one day at every station, not because it took him a whole day to transact his business, but because he could not get out until the next day unless he coupled on to a freight train. “TI wish,” he said to Johnny, on his first visit to Richville after Johnny had taken charge at that station, “ that we had more of a railroad for you to ex- pend your energies on, young man. Your enterprise merits better things.” He looked about the office, in which the dust of ages had been removed, COPMIGLOOO KS (E@)