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

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

he knew it was a long, hard climb acress months be loses his standing, age, end bes the narrow deck that stretched from the fireman’s side of the cab to the enginees’s, CHAPTER VI, ON HIS OWN. S. the local drove on, Jim said: “‘ We'll make the run on time to-day. Hav- ing it light and easy. I'll take you out stepping to-night. I gotta couple of live ones on the string and we'll go take in a show. Friend of mine promised to bring me in.a quart of real white rye. He’s got a machine, too. We'll take on our liquid refreshment as we mde. Believe me, kid, we'll put on a party you won’t forget soon!” The engine was drifting down hill. The usual clatter and racket was absent. Only the cha-chug, cha-chug of the pump, and the plup-plup-plup of the relief valves sounded above the rattle of her drivers clicking the rail jomts. to start in at the bottom again.” “ Bat,” Zeb persisted, even though he'd shown his ignorance, “he hasn’t got ao whiskers.” ‘Whiskers, that’s age,” langhed Jim. “The longer your record runs continuses, the more jobs you stand for. Everything goes by the length of continuous service. The man who has the longest record stands for the best runs. That’s his whiskers lf he gets the air, fired, for more than sm months, he ‘ gets his whiskers clipped,’ and has to begin again. Me, I lost ont two years a while back. They had me down for everything. I pitched a spree, theught it wonld be a grand joke tc @ jane out for an engine ride. I speaks right out—‘ You’re both drunk.’ The engineer looked across, listening tos I’m too fozzled to put up a bluff. We the fireman’s promise. He shook his heagl warningly. “ Listen, bud,” he addressed Zeb. “ Take some good advice from one who has suf- fered. Don’t mix up with any of Jim’s skirts, and fight shy .of the booze that’s flowing around Depot Street now. I’m telling you what sure is. I ought to have whiskers to my knees. Instead, all I stand fer is the local. Strong drink and fast women knocked my age three different times.” He. reached up for the whistle cord, blew a station call, and opened the throttle. “ You can’t buck ’em, kid. They'll get you sooner or later.” Zeb turned to Jim, who was grinning sheepishly at the engineer’s words. The increasing clatter of the engine working steam drowned out the engineer’s remarks. ‘‘ What did he mean?” ; “ Oh, Johnny used to throw-a grand and glorious spree occasionally. He’s been run- ning an engine now for fifteen years, but he only has about eight years age. He was held off a couple of times too long. You know, if a guy is held off for over six makes a hig sneak. You bet I soon sober up and shake the jane. Sidewheeler, she was at that. Spent the rest of the night a worrying my head off. Caller broke the sad news to me in. the moming. Investi- gation, up on the carpet. I’m fired. ]’m off seven months. Business begins rush- ing, Short of firemen, and I get back. But I’ve lost my standing, and I have to buck the extra board once more.” Jim shook his head sadly, then nodded to the steam gauge that had been dropping down: steadily while they talked, and Zeb jumped to. his shovel. As he shot the coal mto the fire the thought ran through his head—‘ I'm not going to do anything to lose my age. These fellows are funny. To think that a man would throw away his chance for advence- ment, for a good job, and all that went with it just for a ‘ jane and the booze.’ The local chugged along, made its stops, got into motion again, and slowly worket back over the road toward home. Zeb was thinking hard about the invitation that Jim had given him. He had no desire to join Jim, and still he felt too indebted to him COnniEaoo () SS Co