wasn't exactly a railroad man--for several
reasons. First, he wasn't a man at all; second, he wasn't, strictly
speaking, on the company's pay roll; third, which is apparently
irrelevant, everybody said he was a bad one; and fourth--because
Hawkeye nicknamed him Toddles.

Toddles had another name--Christopher Hyslop Hoogan--but Big Cloud
never lay awake at nights losing any sleep over that. On the first run
that Christopher Hyslop Hoogan ever made, Hawkeye looked him over for a
minute, said, "Toddles," short-like--and, short-like, that settled the
matter so far as the Hill Division was concerned. His name was Toddles.

Piecemeal, Toddles wouldn't convey anything to you to speak of. You'd
have to see Toddles coming down the aisle of a car to get him at
all--and then the chances are you'd turn around after he'd gone by and
stare at him, and it would be even money that you'd call him back and
fish for a dime to buy something by way of excuse. Toddles got a good
deal of business that way. Toddles had a uniform and a regular run all
right, but he wasn't what he passionately longed to be--a legitimate,
dyed-in-the-wool railroader. His paycheck, plus commissions, came from
the News Company down East that had the railroad concession. Toddles
was a newsboy. In his blue uniform and silver buttons, Toddles used to
stack up about the height of the back of the car seats as he hawked his
wares along the aisles; and the only thing that was big about him was
his head, which looked as though it had got a whopping big lead on his
body--and didn't intend to let the body cut the lead down any. This
meant a big cap, and, as Toddles used to tilt the vizor forward, the
tip of his nose, bar his mouth which was generous, was about all one
got of his face. Cap, buttons, magazines and peanuts, that was
Toddles--all except his voice. Toddles had a voice that would make you
jump if you were nervous the minute he opened the car door, and if you
weren't nervous you would be before he had reached the other end of the
aisle--it began low down somewhere on high G and went through you
shrill as an east wind, and ended like the shriek of a brake-shoe with
everything the Westinghouse equipment had to offer cutting loose on a
quick stop.

Hawkeye? That was what Toddles called his beady-eyed conductor in
retaliation. Hawkeye used to nag Toddles every chance he got, and,
being Toddles' conductor, Hawkeye got a good many chances. In a word,
H