The lesson lasted him pretty nearly
all the rest of the season.
The three rival cars came rolling into the yards early in
the afternoon of that day. All hands were angry and ready
for trouble. Phil passed the time of day pleasantly with
his opponent of the previous day, but the manager of the
yellow car did not deign to make any reply to his greeting.
The hour was late before he was able to start his men out, and by
that time Phil's crew had pretty well covered the town and the
surrounding country, though the posters of the latter territory
had very long drives, and were not expected to return until very
long after dark.
Phil chafed under this, fearing that he would be obliged to miss
the last train out that night, which would again put him on the
same train with his rivals next day.
One of his men would have a thirty-five-mile drive back after he
had finished his day's work. That would bring the man "home,"
as the return to the car is called, long after midnight in
all probability.
Inquiry at the station and a wire to the division superintendent
failed to get a special engine to haul Car Three out that night.
But in his talk with the station agent Phil learned something
that set him thinking. He pondered over the information he had
obtained, for sometime.
"I believe I can do it," he muttered.
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