Frank Lucius Packard

On the Iron at Big Cloud Frank Lucius Packard

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." "Well, if I did, I didn't promise to put you in the way of making a fool of yourself and a laughing-stock of me, did I? You may be qualified technically, I don't say you're not. In fact, I've been rather pleased with you; that's one reason why you're not going out there to tackle something you can't handle. If men like Rawson and Williams can't hold down the job, what do you expect to do?" "No worse than they, at least," Holman answered, quietly. "Look here, uncle, that's just the point. There aren't any of the men want the position, so I'm not jumping anybody to take it. I'll not make any laughing-stock of you, either. I'm not going out as the Old Man's nephew; just plain Dick Holman. If I don't make good you can wash your hands of my railroad career.