"I have been thinking, Dad," said Steve that evening, while they sat at dinner, "of the railroad story you told me this morning. It was some yarn." His father laughed over the top of his coffee cup.

"It was, wasn't it?" replied he. "And the half was not told then. I was in too much of a hurry to give you an idea of all the trials the poor railroad builders encountered. Did it occur to you, for example, that after the roads to the Pacific coast were laid their managers were confronted by another great difficulty,—the difference in time between the east and the west?"

"I never thought of that," was Steve's answer. "Of course the time must have differed a lot."

"Indeed it did! Every little branch road followed the time peculiar to its own section of the country, and the task of unifying this so that a basis for a common time-table could be adopted was tremendous. A convention of scientists from every section of the country was called to see what could be done about the fifty-three different times in use by the various railroads."

"Fifty-three!" ejaculated Stephen, with a grin. "Why, that was almost as many as Heinz pickles."

"In this case the results of the fifty-three varieties were far more menacing, I am afraid, than those of the fifty-seven," said his father, with a smile, "for travel under such a rÉgime was positively unsafe."

"I can see that it would be. What did they do?"

"Well, after every sort of suggestion had been presented it was decided to divide the country up into four immense parts, separated from one another by imaginary lines running north and south."

"Degrees of longitude?"

"Precisely!" returned Mr. Tolman, gratified that the boy had caught the point so intelligently. "The time of each of these sections jumped fifteen degrees, or one hour, and the railroads lying in each district were obliged to conform to the standard time of their locality. Until this movement went into effect there had been, for example, six so-called standard times to reckon with in going from Boston to Washington."

"I don't see why everybody didn't get smashed up!"

"I don't either; and I fancy the passengers and the railroad people didn't," declared Mr. Tolman. "But with the new state of things the snarl was successfully untangled and the roads began to be operated on a more scientific basis. Then followed gradual improvements in cars which as time went on were made more comfortable and convenient. The invention of the steam engine and the development of our steel products were the two great factors that made our American railroads possible. With the trans-continental roads to carry materials and the opening up of our coal, iron and copper mines we were at last in a position to make our railroads successful. Then science began to evolve wonderful labor-saving machinery which did away with the slow, primitive methods our pioneer engineers had been obliged to employ. The steam shovel was invented, the traveling crane, the gigantic derrick, the pile driver. The early railroad builders had few if any of these devices and were forced to do by hand the work that machinery could have performed in much less time. When one thinks back it is pathetic to consider the number of lives that were sacrificed which under present-day conditions might have been saved. Yet every great movement goes forward over the dead bodies of unnamed heroes. To an extent this is unavoidable and one of the enigmas of life. If every generation were as wise at the beginning as it is at the end there would be no progress. Nevertheless, when you reflect that ten thousand Chinese and Chilean laborers died while building one of the South American railroads it does make us wonder why we should be the ones to reap the benefits of so much that others sowed, doesn't it?" mused the boy's father.

"Do you mean to say that ten thousand persons were killed while that railroad was being built?" questioned Stephen, aghast.

"They were not all killed," was the reply. "Many of them died of exposure to cold, and many from the effects of the climate. Epidemics swept away hundreds of lives. This particular railroad was one of the mightiest engineering feats the world had seen for in its path lay the Andes Mountains, and there was no escape from either crossing or tunneling them. The great tunnel that pierces them at a height of 15,645 feet above sea level is one of the marvels of science. In various parts of the world there are other such monuments to man's conquest of the opposing forces of nature. Honeycombing the Alps are spiral tunnels that curve round and round like corkscrews inside the mountains, rising slowly to the peaks and making it possible to reach the heights that must be traversed. Among these marvels is the Simplon Tunnel, famous the world over. The road that crosses the Semmering Pass from Trieste to Vienna is another example of what man can do if he must. By means of a series of covered galleries it makes its way through the mountains that stretch like a wall between Italy and Austria. In the early days this territory with its many ravines and almost impassable heights would have been considered too difficult to cross. The railroad over the Brenner Pass between Innsbruck and Botzen penetrates the mountains of the Tyrol by means of twenty-three tunnels."

"I learned about the St. Gothard tunnel in school," Steve interrupted eagerly.

"Yes, that is yet another of the celebrated ones," his father rejoined. "In fact, there are now so many of these miracles of skilful railroading that we have almost ceased to wonder at them. Railroads thread their way up Mt. Washington, Mt. Rigi, and many another dizzy altitude; to say nothing of the cable-cars and funicular roads that take our breath away when they whirl us to the top of some mountain, either in Europe or in our own land. Man has left scarce a corner of our planet inaccessible, until now, not content with scaling the highest peaks by train, he has progressed still another stage and is flying over them. Thus do the marvels of one age become the commonplace happenings of the next. Our ancestors doubtless thought, when they had accomplished the miracles of their generation, that nothing could surpass them. In the same spirit we regard our aeroplanes and submarines with triumphant pride. But probably the time will come when those who follow us will look back on what we have done and laugh at our attempts just as you laughed when I told you of the first railroad."

Stephen was thoughtful for a moment.

"It's a great game—living—isn't it, Dad?"

"It is a great game if you make yourself one of the team and pull on the side of the world's betterment," nodded his father. "Think what such a thing as the railroad has meant to millions and millions of people. Not only has it opened up a country which might have been shut away from civilization for centuries; but it has brought men all over the world closer together and made it possible for those of one land to visit those of another and come into sympathy with them. Japan, China, and India, to say nothing of the peoples of Europe, are almost our neighbors in these days of ships and railroads."

"I suppose we should not have known much about those places, should we," reflected the boy.

"Certainly not so much as we do now," was his father's answer. "Of course, travelers did go to those countries now and then; but to get far into their interior in a palanquin carried by coolies, for example, was a pretty slow business."

"And uncomfortable, too," Stephen decided. "I guess the natives were mighty glad to see the railroads coming."

To the lad's surprise his father shook his head.

"I am afraid they weren't," observed he ruefully. "You recall how even the more civilized and better educated English and French opposed the first railroads? Well, the ignorant orientals, who were a hundred times more superstitious, objected very vehemently. The Chinese in particular feared that the innovation would put to flight the spirits which they believed inhabited the earth, air, and water. Surely, they argued, if these gods were disturbed, disaster to the nation must inevitably follow. It was almost impossible to convince even the more intelligent leaders that the railroad would be a benefit instead of a menace for before the ancient beliefs argument was helpless."

"Well, the railroads were built just the same, weren't they?"

"Yes. Fortunately some of the more enlightened were led to see the wisdom of the enterprise, and they converted the others to their views or else overrode their protests. They were like a lot of children who did not know what was best for them and as such they had to be treated. Nevertheless, you may be quite certain that the pioneer days of railroad building in the East were not pleasant ones. Materials had to be carried for great distances both by water and by land. In 1864, when the first locomotive was taken to Ceylon, it had to be transported on a raft of bamboo and drawn from the landing place to the track by elephants."

"Humph!" chuckled Steve. "It's funny to think of, isn't it?"

"More funny to think of than to do, I guess," asserted his father. "Still it is the battle against obstacles that makes life interesting, and in spite of all the hardships I doubt if those first railroad men would have missed the adventure of it all. Out of their resolution, fearlessness and vision came a wonderful fulfillment, and it must have been some satisfaction to know that they had done their share in bringing it about."

"I suppose that is what Mr. Ackerman meant when he spoke of the history of steamboating," said the boy slowly.

"Yes. He and his family had a hand in that great game and I do not wonder he is proud of it. And speaking of Mr. Ackerman reminds me that he called up this afternoon to ask if you would like to take a motor-ride with him to-morrow morning while I am busy."

"You bet I would!" was the fervent reply.

"I thought as much, so I made the engagement for you. He is coming for you at ten o'clock. And he will have quite a surprise for you, too."

"What is it?" the boy asked eagerly.

"It is not my secret to tell," was the provoking answer. "You will know it in good time."

"To-morrow?"

"I think so, yes."

"Can't you tell me anything about it?"

"Nothing but that you were indirectly responsible for it."

"I!" gasped Stephen.

Mr. Tolman laughed.

"That will give you something to wonder and to dream about," he responded, rising from the table. "Let us see how much of a Sherlock Holmes you are."

Steve's mind immediately began to speculate rapidly on his father's enigmatic remark. All the way up in the elevator he pondered over the conundrum; and all the evening he turned it over in his mind. At last, tired with the day's activities, he went to bed, hoping that dreams might furnish him with a solution of the riddle. But although he slept hard no dreams came and morning found him no nearer the answer than he had been before.

He must wait patiently for Mr. Ackerman to solve the puzzle.