Adventure, February 1917 — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

j > — HE AGENT at Sidon arrived in ' haste. There was need, for the unheralded special snorted im- patiently before the little red station, and some ten or more officials, dis- affection heavily upon them, were moving about in twos and threes, inspecting the platform, the lights and the trucks, and peering with prying eyes beneath the freight house and depot. Superintendent Kane and Robbins, the trainmaster, were there; the agent. knew ~ _them personally. Also Bonner, the general manager, whom he knew by sight only. The others were strangers. In carefully preserved, stony silence they, received the agent as he came hurrying,’ keys jingling in hand. His young face was pale, rather haggard, with a set, strained ~ expression, as if he were holding himself in tightly. But, oddly enough, he did not seem to mark the disapproval which lurked in the expressionless, masked faces. Rather he seemed to regard them with a kind of absent, pensive perturbation. “Good morning,” he said soberly, civilly, to Kane and Robbins. “Good morning.” ‘They returned his greeting somewhat grudgingly—as if they would have preferred not to answer. Unlocking the outside waiting-room door, the agent swung it wide open and the party followed him inside, and trooped after him into the little office. Then there was a great turning of heads and craning of necks, °MeNeal © —~ Sens I 9-2 ie a peeking into corners and stationery cases . and drawers and under desks, and much jotting upon note-books. For was this not the annual inspection and must it not be conducted with rigorous decorum estab- lished by countless other inspections in the past, among whose mandates was this, that no question be asked and that things be noted as they were found? ‘Therefore they inspected without words—all but Kane. His position as superintendent permitted him to speak. “You’re late, McNeal!” Kane’ S voice rasped crisply and ‘he glanced up at = clock above the ticket window. Perhaps the harshness was in his voice because he had hoped to make a good showing on his division, and here, the first station of the day, was a black mark on account of the agent’s tardiness. The agent also looked at the clock. “Seven, five,” he said impassively; it was as if his words had no relation to the super- intendent’s remark. His troubled eyes stared at the clock a moment, then: “Ves—I’m late—five minutes!” Mechanically McNeal put a small bag of change in the money-drawer and turned the key; went to the little switchboard fastened to the wall over his desk and pulled out the bottom plugs, cutting in the telegraph instruments with a sudden, popping clatter; and then he removed the sticks from the block. levers, dropping the semaphores. His movements were heavy, methodical, and 127 Gomicbooks (EC)