eleven A.M.
In the midst of it comes a hundred-word code message from Dalton , our traffic superintendent , sayin ' how he 'd been notified to remove his wharf spurs within twenty-four hours and askin ' panicky what he should do about it . `` Tell him to hold his tracks with loaded ore trains , and keep his shirt on , '' growls Old Hickory over his shoulder . `` And ` phone Peabody , Frost & Co. to send up their railroad securities expert on the double quick . '' That 's the way it went from eleven A.M. until two-thirty , and all the lunch I indulged in was two bites of a cheese sandwich that Vincent split with me . At two-thirty-five Old Hickory jams on his hat and signals for me . `` Gather up those papers and come along , '' says he . `` I think we 're ready now to talk to Gedney Nash . ''