name is Mose; "but I jes feel
kinder oneasy 'bout de ghosts whut ain't."

Jes lak white folks! Jes lak white folks!

FOOTNOTE:

[9] Copyright, 1913, by the Century Company. Reprinted by special
permission of the author.

[Illustration]

X.--The Night Operator[10]

_By Frank L. Packard_

TODDLES, in the beginning, wasn't exactly a railroad man--for several
reasons. First he wasn't a man at all; second, he wasn't, strictly
speaking, on the company's pay roll; third, which is apparently
irrelevant, everybody said he was a bad one; and fourth--because Hawkeye
nicknamed him Toddles.

Toddles had another name--Christopher Hyslop Hoogan--but Big Cloud never
lay awake at nights losing any sleep over that. On the first run that
Christopher Hyslop Hoogan ever made, Hawkeye looked him over for a
minute, said, "Toddles," shortlike--and, shortlike, that settled the
matter so far as the Hill Division was concerned. His name was Toddles.

Piecemeal, Toddles wouldn't convey anything to you to speak of. You'd
have to see Toddles coming down the aisle of a car to get him at
all--and then the chances are you'd turn around after he'd gone by and
stare at him, and it would be even money that you'd call him back and
fish for a dime to buy something by way of excuse. Toddles got a good
deal of business that way. Toddles had a uniform and a regular run all
right, but he wasn't what he passionately longed to be--a legitimate,
dyed-in-the-wool railroader. His pay check, plus commissions, came from
the News Company down East that had the railroad concession. Toddles was
a newsboy. In his blue uniform and silver buttons, Toddles used to stack
up about the height of the back of the car seats as he hawked his wares
along the aisles; and the only thing that was big about him was his
head, which looked as though it had got a whopping big lead on his
body--and didn't intend to let the body cut the lead down any. This
meant a big cap, and, as Toddles used to tilt the vizor forward, the tip
of his nose, bar his mouth which was generous, was about all one got of
his face. Cap, buttons, magazines and peanuts, that was Toddles--all
except his voice. Toddles had a voice that would make you jump if you
were nervous the minute he opened the car door, and if you weren't
nervous you would be before he had reached the other end of the
aisle--it began low down somewhere on high G and went through you shrill
as an east wind, and ended like