Most of them never hope to get above running, and so sit down more or
less contented, get married, buy real estate, gamble, or grow fat, each
according to the dictates of his own conscience or the inclinations of
his make-up. Miles figured a little on matrimony.
I can't explain it; but when a railroad man is in trouble, he comes to
me for advice, just as he would go to the company doctor for kidney
complaint. I am a specialist in heart troubles. Miles came to me.
Miles was like the rest of them. They don't come right down and say,
"Something's the matter with me; what would you do for it?" No, sir!
They hem and haw, and laugh off the symptoms, until you come right out
and tell them just how they feel and explain the cause; then they will
do anything you say. Miles hemmed and hawed a little, but soon came out
and showed his symptoms--he asked me if I had ever noticed the
"Frenchman's" girl.
"The Frenchman," be it known, was our boss bridge carpenter. He lived at
a small place half-way over my division--I was pulling express--and the
freights stopped there, changing engines.
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