direction of headquarters, and walked up to the engineer.
"Gilleen," said he briskly, "you'll have to take out Special Eighty-three. 1603's ready with a full head on pit two."
"What's that?" snapped Gilleen. "Take out a special now?" You know damn well I'm just in from a run. I'm tired. You'll rub it in once too often, Regan."
"We're all tired, aren't we?" returned the master mechanic tartly. "Do you think you're the only one? As for rubbing it in, you'd better draw your fire, my bucko. There's no rubbing in being done except in your eye! Anyhow, that's enough talk. Special Eighty-three's carded on rush orders from down East, and she's been in here an hour now."
"Well, why didn't you let the crew that brought her in keep goin' then?" snarled Gilleen. It was a fool question and he knew it; but, as he had said, he was tired, and his temper, never angelic, was now pretty well on edge.
Regan glared at him a moment angrily. Regan, too, was tired and irritable, harassed beyond the limit that most men are harassed. The demand upon the motive power department for men and engines had kept him up more than one night trying to figure out a problem that was well-nigh impossible.
"Let 'em go on!" he snorted. "You know well enough I haven't anything on the Prairie Division men. You know that—what d'ye say it for, h'm? You're the first man in—and you go out first."
