Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

THE CALL OF SHINING STEEL. he referred to it made little creepy feelings run up and down Zeb’s back. His attention was attracted by a loud guffaw. He looked across the room where_a big man stood, head thrown back laughing. “Haw, haw, and be went clear back fer a left-hand monkey wrench! Haw! Hawl Haw! He was good, that guy. Just out of the country. Green as grass. We razzed him for fair.” Railroading. These men off duty talked of nothing but the railroad. Zeb wondered why they didn’t go uptown, why they didn’t read, why they didn’t get away from the railroad during their few leisure hours. But Zeb was green, as green as the one who had gone for the left handed monkey wrench. He soon was to learn of the all- absorbing fascination of the road that grips a man to the exclusion of all else. He saw Jim making his way through the lobby toward him and rose to meet him. “ Well, kiddo, you’re all fixed up now.” As they left the room he remarked: “That bunch in there, don’t let ‘em put anything over on you. They have more wrecks in there in an hour than the division has in a year—and pull cars! Say, if some of them ‘hogheads’ could jerk the trains with an engine they pull up the hills with their mouth, there wouldn’t be but two trains a day on the whole road, one each way and an extra car behind one on pay day. If they could work the air from the brake valve as smooth as they do from their faces, they would never smash a draw bar either,” Jim conclyded. CHAPTER IV. MAKING THE GRADE. EXT morning Zeb woke with a start N from a deep sleep. The opening of the bedroom door had caused him to sit bolt upright, wide awake in bed. Be- side him, Jim still slept heavily. A lantern, dim and smoky, advanced. A boy, with a black book in his hand, approached and yelled: “All right, old head! Sign the book. You're called for the West End Local.” 813 Jim stirred and awoke. ‘“ "Lo, Snaky. All right,” and reaching over Zeb he ran the pencil “ across the line.” With many a grunt and a sigh, he arog, stretched and turned on the light. The call boy went out, slamming the door be- hind him. Zeb glanced at his watch. “ Half past four,” he said, following Jim. He washed in the big white bowl and pushed himself into his working clothes. Jim picked up his lantern from beside the dresser, lit it and walking quietly so as to not disturb the other sleepers, the two stole down the stairs and out into the darkness of the deserted street. Their footfall sound- ed loud and menacing as they made their way down toward Ring’s restaurant. All the life and movement of the day was gone and the street in front of the depot seemed muggy and depressing, a cold, clammy thing, dead and uninviting. The depot, ugly, gaunt, its darkened windows looking like missing: teeth in a moldering skull, leered across at them. In one comer a sickly yellow glare of light shone out from the despatcher’s room. the rest of the building was barren and barn- like. Ring’s was lit up by one light high over- -head. The stools in front of the counter were empty, a gutter. of cigarette stubs, torn paper and half burned cigar butts littered the floor. On the back table a lantern turned low burned in a feeble flicker, outlining the bowed head and shoul- ders, the red handkerchief above the blue jumper collar of a man asleep, snoring loudly as he slumped across the table. Behind the counter a waiter in a stained jacket sat on a stool, his head thrown back, breathing slowly and heavily through his open mouth. Jim banged abruptly on the smeared white stone of the counter top with his lantern. The waiter awoke with a start and stared at the two. “ What'll you have?” he mumbled, m2 ing to his feet. “ Ham an’, and a couple of Javas. Without a word he sbambled back fo- ward the kitchen and before long the sputter of grease and the smell of cooking COnniEaoo () SS Co