morning, upon which was printed:

J. BRADFORD, C.E.

The General, who was at that time chief engineer in charge of the
construction of the first Pacific Railroad, turned the bit of pasteboard
over. It seemed so short and simple. He ran his eyes over a printed
list, alphabetically arranged, of directors, promoters, statesmen,
capitalists, and others who were in the habit of signing "letters of
recommendation" for young men who wanted to do something and begin well
up the ladder.

There were no Bradfords. Burgess and Blodgett were the only B's, and the
General was glad. His desk was constantly littered with the "letters" of
tenderfeet, and his office-tent filled with their portmanteaus, holding
dress suits and fine linen.

Here was a curiosity--a man with no press notices, no character, only
one initial and two chasers.

"Show him in," said the General, addressing the one luxury his hogan
held. A few moments later the chief engineer was looking into the eye of
a young man, who returned the look and asked frankly, and without
embarrassment, for work with the engineers.

"Impossible, young man--full up," was the brief answer.

"Now," thought the General, "he'll begin to beat his breast and haul out
his 'pull.'" The young man only smiled sadly, and said, "I'm sorry. I
saw an 'ad' for men in the _Bee_ yesterday, and hoped to be in time," he