"You can't go in that room." "Why can't I?" "Because that's the orders; and you can't smoke in this room." Bart Stirling spoke in a definite, manly fashion. Lemuel Wacker dropped his hand from the door knob on which it rested, and put his pipe in his pocket, but his shoulders hunched up and his unpleasant face began to scowl. "Ho!" he snorted derisively, "official of the company, eh? Running things, eh?" "I am—for the time being," retorted Bart, cheerfully. "Well," said Wacker, with an ugly sidelong look, "I don't take insolence from anyone with the big head. I reckon ten year's service with the B. & M. entitles a man to know his rights."