CHAPTER XV
AN OLD DESPATCHER'S MISTAKE--MY FIRST TRICK
I had become thoroughly proficient and more frequently than ever
Borroughs would let me "spell" for him for a while each day. Be it said
to his credit, however, he was always within hearing, when I was doing
any of his work. He was carefulness personified, and the following
incident only serves to show what unaccountable errors will be made by
even the best of men.
One cold morning in January, I started to the office as usual. The air
was so still, crisp and biting that the air-pumps of the engines had
that peculiar sharp, snappy sound heard only in a panting engine in cold
weather. They seemed almost imbued with life. As I went into the office
at eight o'clock to go to work, the night man remarked that I must be
feeling pretty brash; my spirits seemed so high. And in fact, that was
no joke; I was feeling fine as silk and showed it all over. But as I
said good morning to Borroughs, I noticed that he seemed rather glum,
and I asked: "What's the matter, Dad? Feeling bad this morning?"
He snapped back in a manner entirely foreign to him, "No, but I don't
feel much like chaffing this day.
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