Atlas Shrugged [437]
She noticed that Owen Kellogg, too, was waiting; but he was not watching the passengers, he was watching her face. When he became certain that there would be no answer from the crowd, he said quietly, "I'll go with you, of course, Miss Taggart."
"Thank you."
"What about us?" snapped the nervous woman.
Dagny turned to her, answering in the formal, inflectionless monotone of a business executive, "There have been no cases of raider gang attacks upon frozen trains-unfortunately."
"Just where are we?" asked a bulky man with too expensive an overcoat and too flabby a face; his voice had a tone intended for servants by a man unfit to employ them. "In what part of what state?"
"I don't know," she answered.
"How long will we be kept here?" asked another, in the tone of a creditor who is imposed upon by a debtor.
"1 don't know."
"When will we get to San Francisco?" asked a third, in the manner of a sheriff addressing a suspect.
"I don't know."
The demanding resentment was breaking loose, in small, crackling puffs, like chestnuts popping open in the dark oven of the minds who now felt certain that they were taken care of and safe.
"This is perfectly outrageous!" yelled a woman, springing forward, throwing her words at Dagny's face. "You have no right to let this happen! I don't intend to be kept waiting in the middle of nowhere!
I expect transportation!"
"Keep your mouth shut," said Dagny, "or I'll lock the train doors and leave you where you are."
"You can't do that! You're a common carrier! You have no right to discriminate against me! I'll report it to the Unification Board!"
"-if I give you a train to get you within sight or hearing of your Board," said Dagny, turning away.
She saw Kellogg looking at her, his glance like a line drawn under her words, underscoring them for her own attention.
"Get a flashlight somewhere," she said, "while I go to get my handbag, then we'll start."
When they started out on their way to the track phone, walking past the silent line of cars, they saw another figure descending from the train and hurrying to meet them. She recognized the tramp.
"Trouble, ma'am?" he asked, stopping.
"The crew has deserted."
"Oh. What's to be done?"
"I'm going to a phone to call the division point."
"You can't go alone, ma'am. Not these days. I'd better go with you."
She smiled. "Thanks. But I'll be all right. Mr. Kellogg here is going with me. Say-what's your name?"
"Jeff Alien, ma'am."
"Listen, Alien, have you ever worked for a railroad?"
"No, ma'am."
"Well, you're working for one now. You're deputy-conductor and proxy-vice-president-in-charge-of-operation. Your job is to take charge of this train in my absence, to preserve order and to keep the cattle from stampeding. Tell them that I appointed you. You don't need any proof. They'll obey anybody who expects obedience."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered firmly, with a look of understanding.
She remembered that money inside a man's pocket had the power to turn into confidence inside his mind; she took a hundred-dollar bill from her bag and slipped it into his hand. "As advance on wages,"
she said.
"Yes, ma'am."
She had started off, when he called after her, "Miss Taggart!"
She turned. "Yes?"
"Thank you," he said.
She smiled, half-raising her hand in a parting salute, and walked on.
"Who is that?" asked Kellogg.
"A tramp who was caught stealing a ride."
"He'll do the job, I think."
"He will."
They walked silently past the engine and on in the direction of its headlight. At first, stepping from tie to tie, with the violent light beating against them from behind, they still felt as if they were at home in the normal realm of a railroad. Then she found herself watching the light on the ties under her feet, watching it ebb slowly, trying to hold it, to keep seeing its fading glow, until she knew that the hint of a glow on the wood was no longer anything but moonlight. She could not prevent the shudder that made her turn to look back. The headlight still hung behind them, like the liquid silver globe of a planet, deceptively close, but belonging