On the Iron at Big Cloud

The General Manager of the Transcontinental System glared at the young man who stood facing him across the office desk. "Why, you wouldn't last three months!" he snapped. "I'd like to try, uncle." "Humph!" "I'm qualified for the position," young Holman went on. "I've done my stint with the construction gangs and I've spent four years in the Eastern shops. You promised me that if I'd stick I'd have my chance."