But he didn't. He just kept
on calling me, increasing his speed all the time. In sheer desperation,
I went out on the platform for five minutes and stamped around to keep
warm, hoping all the time he would stop when he found I did not answer.
But when I returned instead of calling me on one wire, he had his
operator calling me on the commercial line while he was pounding away on
the railroad wire. At the rate those two sounders were going they
sounded to me like the crack of doom and I was becoming powerfully warm.
I finally mustered up courage and answered him.
The first thing the despatcher said was:
"Where in h--l have you been?"
I didn't think that was a very nice thing for him to say, and he fired
it at me so fast I could hardly read it, so I simply replied, "Out
fixing my batteries."
"Well," he said, "your batteries will need fixing when I get through
with you. Now copy 3."
"Copy 3," means to take three copies of the order that is to follow, so
I grabbed my manifold order-book and stylus and prepared to copy. There
is a rule printed in large bold type in all railroad time-cards which
says, "Despatchers, in sending train orders to operators, will
accommodate their speed to the abilities of the operators.
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