ire young men. If you will notice, you will
rarely see an old engineer on a fast passenger run; even a young man can
stand only a few years of that kind of work. High speed on a locomotive
is a question of nerve and endurance--to put it bluntly, a question of
flesh and blood.

* * * * *

"You don't think much of this strike, do you, Mr. Reed?" said Andy to me
one night.

"Don't think there's going to be any, Andy."

He laughed knowingly.

"What actual grievance have the boys?" I asked.

"The trouble's on the East End," he replied, evasively.

"Is that any reason for calling a thousand men out on this end?"

"If one goes out, they all go."

"Would you go out?"

"Would I? You bet!"

"A man with a home and a wife and a baby boy like yours ought to have
more sense."

Getting up to leave, he laughed again confidently. "That's all right.
We'll bring you fellows to terms."

"Maybe," I retorted, as he closed the door. But I hadn't the slightest
idea they would begin the attempt that night. I was at home and sound
asleep when the caller tapped on my window. I threw up the sash; it was
pouring rain and dark as a pocket.

"What is it, Barney? A wreck?" I exclaimed.

"Worse than that. Everything's tied up."

"What do you mean?"

"The engineers have struck."

"Struck? What time is it?"

"Half-past three. They went out at three o'clock." Throwing on my
clothes, I floundered behind Barney's lantern to the depot. The
superintendent was already in his office talking to the master-mechanic.

Bulletins came in every few minutes from various points announcing
trains tied up. Before long we began to hear from the East End. Chicago
reported all engineers out; Omaha wired, no trains moving. When the sun
rose that morning our entire system, extending through seven States and
Territories, was absolutely paralyzed.

It was an astounding situation, but one that must be met. It meant
either an ignominious surrender to the engineers or a fight to the
death. For our part, we had only to wait for orders. It was just six
o'clock when the chief train-dispatcher who was tapping at a key, said:

"Here's something from headquarters."

We crowded close around him. His pen flew across the clip; the message
was addressed to all division superintendents. It was short; but at the
end of it he wrote a name we rarely saw in our office. It was that of
the railroad magnate we knew as "the old man," the