The operator’s work at Byers Junction was more important and difficult than at any of the other small stations on the line, because, as has already been explained, it was at that point that the track of the D. W. & I. joined that of the P. & O., and all D. W. & I. trains ran over the P. & O. tracks as far as West Junction, a distance of about eight miles. This complicated the traffic problem and the movement of trains much more than a simple crossing would have done, for the trains had to be kept out of each other’s way not only at the junction, but for the whole length of that stretch of track which was used in common by the two roads.

The P. & O. was considerably the older of the two, and had been built along the main line of traffic from east to west—the line which, in the old days, had been followed by the stage-coach. As the State became more thickly settled, other lines sprang up, and finally, when rich deposits of coal were discovered in Jackson County, the D. W. & I. was built to tap this territory and connect it with the northwestern part of the State. The ? 117 ? P. & O. also ran through Jackson County, and, of course, soon built a branch to the coal-fields, so that when the work of construction on the new road began it was found that it would closely parallel the P. & O. for a distance of about eight miles. The new road was short of cash at the time, as most roads in the building are, and decided to use the P. & O. track for that distance, instead of building a track of its own.

So a traffic arrangement was made, the junction points established, and joint operators placed there. This arrangement, which, as was at first supposed, would be only temporary, was continued from year to year, the P. & O. getting a good rental out of this stretch of track, and the D. W. & I. never accumulating a sufficient balance in the treasury to build a track of its own—at least, whenever it did get such a balance, it was always needed for some more pressing purpose, and the old arrangement was allowed to stand. When a railroad has to fight to earn the interest on its bonds, it is willing to do anything that will give it a longer lease of life.

The D. W. & I. was, as will be seen, an unimportant road. It ran only one passenger-train a day in each direction, and, as it was not on the way to anywhere, its business, both freight and passenger, was purely local. At the beginning of its existence, it had hauled a great deal of coal for the Chicago market, but this business had been killed by the development of the great Pocahontas ? 118 ? fields in West Virginia. Luckily for the road, it was discovered at this time that it might serve as a link between the mighty N. & W. and C. H. & D. to connect the Pocahontas fields with Chicago, so, while the east end of the line gradually degenerated into a streak of rust, traffic on the west end, from Wadsworth to Dayton, became heavier than ever, as train after train of coal and coke, from the West Virginia fields, passed daily over this little stretch of track, and then rushed away to the busy city by the lake. It was a good deal like a man living on one lung, or with one side partially paralyzed; yet a certain sort of life is possible under those conditions, and this one-sided traffic provided the only dividend the D. W. & I. had ever paid, and permitted the road to struggle along without going into the hands of a receiver.

Owing to this double use of this little stretch of track, the operators at both Byers and West Junction were what is called “joint operators;” that is, they served as operator for both roads, received orders from both headquarters, and so managed the traffic that there should be no conflict. This consisted, for the most part, in holding the D. W. & I. trains until the P. & O. trains were out of the way; for the trains of the more important road were always given precedence, and the others had to make the best of it and hurry through whenever there was an opening. The P. & O. dispatcher had absolute control over the track, and the D. W. & I. ? 119 ? trains were not turned back to the control of that road until they had got back upon their own line.

At night, luckily, there was very little traffic over the D. W. & I.—so little that it had not bothered Allan at all. But during the day trick, traffic was much livelier, and it required a cool head and steady judgment to get everything past without confusion. There was, both at Byers and West Junction, a long siding upon which trains could be held until the track ahead was clear, but they were used only when absolutely necessary, for the ideal and constant endeavour of dispatcher, operator, and every other employee of a railroad is to keep things moving.

Only by keeping things moving, can a railroad be profitably operated. One stalled train soon blocks a dozen others, and any derangement of the time-card means delayed mails, wrathful passengers, irate trainmen, and a general tangle of traffic almost certain to result in accident. To keep things moving on a single-track road, such as the P. & O., requires no little judgment and experience, as well as the power of reaching the wisest decision instantly. There must be, too, in the ideal dispatcher, an element of daring, for chances have to be taken occasionally, and in railroading, more than in any other business, he who hesitates is lost. Not of foolhardiness, be it understood, for the foolhardy dispatcher soon comes to grief; but he must, as it were, expect the best, not the worst, and govern ? 120 ? himself accordingly. Before he sits down at his desk, he must make up his mind that during his trick, every train is going to get over the road on time, and then bend every energy to accomplish that result. This, it may be added, is the secret of all successful train-dispatching.

Nevins reported on time next morning, and greeted Allan with unusual affability; but his eyes were bloodshot, and though he pretended to listen to Allan’s explanation of the orders in force, it was evident that his attention wandered and that he was making no effort to understand.

“All right,” he said, when Allan had finished. “I’ve got that all straight,” and he sat down heavily before the table.

His hand trembled perceptibly as he opened his key, and Allan, as he put on his coat, noticed the confused way in which he started to answer the dispatcher’s question about the position of a train.

The dispatcher cut in sharply.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“Nevins.”

“What’s the matter—been out all night?”

Nevins, who knew that Allan had heard the question, reddened to his ears.

“Now try again,” added the dispatcher, “and brace up.”

Nevins, by a mighty effort, controlled his uncertain muscles, and sent the remainder of the message accurately, but considerably slower than usual.

? 121 ?

The dispatcher acknowledged it.

“All right,” he said, “but take my advice and go out and put your head under the pump. You need it. The way you sent that message reminds me of a man going down the street so drunk that the only way he can walk straight is to watch every step he takes.”

Nevins reddened again and growled unintelligibly.

As for Allan, he caught up his lunch-basket and hurried out of the office, sorry that he had overheard the reprimand, but scarcely able to suppress his laughter at the aptness of it. For Nevins had sent the message in just that slow, painful, dignified way.

The accommodation stopped at the junction a few minutes later, and he swung aboard and settled into a seat. As the train started............