THE CONSTRUCTION TRAIN.
I have been so busy with the history of our family affairs, and the
incidents which sent me over to Middleport, that I have not had much
to say about the Lake Shore Railroad; but before I have done with the
subject, I shall fully describe the road, and explain the operations
of the company. Only a small portion of the line had yet been built,
and the dummy was but a temporary substitute for more complete rolling
stock. Major Toppleton intended to have a charter for the road, to be
obtained at the next session of the legislature, and to continue it to
Ucayga. Although it was at the present time a mere plaything for the
students, it was designed to be a useful institution, and to build up
Middleport immensely in the end.
Just as I was about to start on the one o’clock trip, Major Toppleton
presented himself. The car was filled with students, though a number of
ladies and gentlemen had come down to the station to have a ride in the
dummy. The major immediately ordered the boys to evacuate the premises,
which they did with some grumblings, amounting almost to rebellion. The
persons waiting were invited to get in, and I started for Spangleport
with a less noisy crowd than I had anticipated. As we went off, I heard
the major call the students together, and I concluded that he had some
definite plan to carry out.
On my return, I found the boys had loaded up the two platform cars with
rails and sleepers, and they were attached to the dummy as soon as she
arrived. Several mechanics were standing by, and it was evident that a
piece of work was to be done that day, instead of play.
“Now, Wolf, we will run a construction train on this trip,” said Major
Toppleton, as he took his place at my side on the dummy, and directed
the students and the mechanics to load themselves into the passenger
apartment and on the cars.
“I think we need a little more construction at Spangleport, sir,” I
suggested.
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“I don’t like to run backwards, sir, on the down trips.”
“But a turn-table will cost too much for the short time we shall make
Spangleport a terminus. We will build one at Grass Springs, for that
will be as far as we shall run the road this season.”
“We need not build a turn-table, sir,” I added. “We can turn the dummy
on switches.”
“How is that?” inquired the major.
“It will take three switches to turn her. First run a track round a
curve to the right, until it comes to a right angle with the main line.
Then run another track on the reverse curve till it strikes the main
line again, a few rods from the point where the first track leaves it.”
“I don’t understand it.”
“I will explain it when we stop, sir. It will not take long to lay it
down, and when it is no longer wanted it can be taken up, and put down
in another place.”
At Spangleport, where we stopped, I made a diagram on a piece of
paper, to illustrate my plan; and here is a copy of my drawing. The
perpendicular lines are the main track. The dummy was to be switched
off at the lowest part of the diagram, and run on the curve till it had
passed a switch on the right. Then it was to be switched on the upper
curve, and run back till it passed the switch on the main line, which
being shifted, the car having been turned entirely round, it runs back
on the perpendicular lines between the curves.
[Illustration]
Major Toppleton was satisfied with the scheme, directed that the
switches should be brought up, and the work was commenced at once by
the mechanics. All the boys but two were employed in laying down more
track; but I am sorry to say they grumbled fiercely, for they wanted to
have some fun with the dummy. Higgins was still to serve as conductor,
and the other student who had been excepted from hard labor was one of
the regularly appointed engineers of the road. His name was Faxon. He
had some taste for mechanics, and had distinguished himself in school
by making a fine diagram of the steam-engine on the blackboard. He was
to run with me on the dummy, and learn to manage the engine. I was
directed to post him up, as well as I could, and to permit him to take
an active part in running the machine.
I was not particularly pleased with the idea of an apprentice in the
engine-room with me, for if the fellow had any “gumption” he would soon
be able to take my place, and I might be discharged whenever it was
convenient. But a second thought assured me that my fears were mean and
unworthy; that I could never succeed in making myself useful by keeping
others in ignorance. The students were sent to the Institute to learn,
and the railroad was a part of their means of instruction. I had no
right to be selfish.
We ran down to the wharf in Spangleport, for the road was built half
a mile beyond the village, when Higgins shouted, “All aboard for
Middleport!” We had quite a crowd of Spangleporters as passengers,
and we ran our trips regularly till five o’clock, to the great
gratification of the people of both places, when the gentlemanly
conductor declined to receive any more who expected to return, as the
half-past five car up would be a construction train. Mr. Higgins talked
very glibly and professionally by this time, and imitated all the
gentlemanly conductors he had ever seen.
Faxon was a very good fellow, though he cherished a bitter antipathy
against the Wimpletonians, and everything connected with them. He
was an ardent admirer of Major Toppleton, and particularly of Major
Toppleton’s eldest daughter, for which I did not like him any the less,
strange as it may appear after the developments of the last chapter.
“I’ll tell you what it is, Wolf,” said he, as we were running up the
last trip, “this thing won’t go down with the fellows.”
“What?”
“All the fellows are mad because they had to work this afternoon.”
“I thought they considered it fun to build the road.”
“They did before the dummy came; but now they want the fun of the
thing. They are all rich men’s sons, and they won’t stand it to work
like Irish laborers. I hope there won’t be any row.”
“Of course Major Toppleton knows what he is about.”
“The students don’t growl before him. They do it to the teachers, who
dare not say their souls are their own.”
“But the major told me the boys enjoyed the fun, and insisted upon
building the road themselves when he wanted to employ laborers for the
purpose.”
“That’s played out. I heard some of the fellows say they would not work
another day.”
“Some one ought to tell the major about this. He don’t want them to
work if they don’t like it,” I suggested.
“It was fine fun when we first began to dig, and lay rails, but we have
all got about enough of it.”
“I will speak to the major about it.”
“Don’t say anything to-day,” interposed Faxon. “The students are vexed
because they were not allowed to have a good time this afternoon; but
the major is going to have a great picnic at Sandy Shore next week, and
he is in a hurry to have the road built to that point--two miles beyond
Spangleport.”
“There is only one mile more to build, and if the fellows stick to it
they will get it done.”
“But they say they won’t work another day,” replied Faxon.
Middleport was not paradise any more than Centreport. Boys were just as
foolish and just as willing to get into a scrape, on one side as the
other. The Toppletonians had insisted upon doing the work of building
the road, and then purposed to rebel because they were required to do
it. I had heard of the grand picnic which was to take place on the
occasion of the birthday of Miss Grace Toppleton. The grove by the
Sandy Shore could be reached most conveniently by the railroad, and the
major’s anxiety to have the rails laid to that point had induced him to
drive the work, instead of giving the students a chance to have a good
time with the dummy, as they had desired to do while it was a new thing.
We ran into the engine-house, and some of the boys forced their
way into my quarters, in spite of my protest. I saw a couple of
them studying the machinery with deep interest. They asked me some
questions; and supposing they were only gratifying a reasonable
curiosity, I gave them all the information they needed, telling them
just how to manage the engine.
“Pooh! I can do that as well as anybody,” said Briscoe, as he jumped
down.
“Of course you can,” replied one of his companions.
“Don’t you think I could run her, Wolf?” asked Briscoe. “I am one of
the engineers of the road, and I ought to know how.”
“Probably you could after you had had some experience.”
They went away, and I wondered what they were thinking about. It did
not much matter, however, for I was satisfied that the major would not
permit them to run the engine till they had become thoroughly competent
to do so. I put out the fires in the dummy, cleaned the machinery, and
left her in readiness for use the next morning. I then went to the
mills; and, as my father had finished his day’s work, we walked down to
the wharf where my skiff lay. On the way I told him about my interview
with Colonel Wimpleton, and we both enjoyed the great man’s confusion
when he learned in what manner he had punished my father.
“He will not arrest you, Wolf; you may depend upon that,” said my
father. “As the case now stands, we have the weather-gauge on him,
except in the matter of the mortgage. I am afraid I shall lose all I
have in the house. Mortimer has got back, but he hasn’t seen or heard
of Christy.”
“He may turn up yet.”
“He may, but I don’t depend much upon it. I have tried a little here in
Middleport to raise the money to pay off the mortgage; but people here
will not lend anything on real estate on the other side of the lake.”
“Perhaps Major Toppleton will help you out,” I suggested.
“I don’t like to say anything to him about it. He has done well by me,
and I won’t ride a free horse to death; besides, I don’t want to be in
the power of either one of these rich men. I have had trouble enough on
the other side.”
I pulled across the lake, and we went into the house. My mother looked
anxiously at my father as he entered, and then at me. I smiled, and
she understood me. Father had not drunk a drop, and she was happy. We
never relished our supper any better than we did that night, and I went
to bed early, not a little surprised that we heard nothing, during the
evening, of Colonel Wimpleton and his son.
The dummy was to make her first trip at eight o’clock, and I left the
house at half-past six, with my father, to cross the lake. When we
reached the wharf, I was utterly confounded to see the dummy streaking
it at the rate of twenty miles an hour along the opposite shore of the
lake. Something was wrong, for there was no one on the other side who
knew how to run the machine, unless it was Faxon, and I was afraid the
discontented Toppletonians were in mischief. We embarked in the skiff,
and I pulled over as quickly as I had done the day before.