"Cert," said one of them, who appeared to be the leader, "go on
and take the order, and then take a drink with us."
By the dim light of only that lantern, with my order pad on a table
covered with broken glass, and smattered with pie, I finally copied the
order, but it was about the worst attempt I had ever made; and the
conductor remarked when he signed it, that it would take a Philadelphia
lawyer to read it. The cow-punchers, however, from that time on were
very good friends of mine, and many a pleasant Sunday did I spend on
their ranches. They afterwards told me that Bob Wolfe had put them up to
their midnight visit in order to frighten me. They certainly succeeded.
My service at Herron was not very profitable, the road being in the
hands of receivers, and for four months none of us received a cent of
wages. The road was called the "International & Great Northern," but we
facetiously dubbed it the "Independent & Got Nothing."
Some months after this I was transferred down to the southern division,
and made night operator at Mankato. This was really about the best
position I had yet struck: good hours, plenty of work and a fine office
to do it in, and eighty dollars a month.
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