AT THE THROTTLE OF A FREIGHT ENGINE
Taking Bob to the caboose, the freight conductor made him known to the
brakemen who were lolling about, smoking.
"So you're the kid Miser Jenkins thought stole your pass?" exclaimed one
of the trainmen, after a searching scrutiny of the boy. "He must be
losing his eyesight. That face of yours ought to vouch for you, if
nothing else. Crooks don't have such honest faces."
"Oh, the miser was probably trying to pull off one of his grand-stand
plays," commented another. "Passes are pretty rare birds, nowadays, and
I suppose he thought he could make a hit with the company by inquiring
about this one."
"And instead of that, he got hit himself. Brown, in the despatcher's
office, told me the message Jenkins received from Chicago was red hot."
From the remarks, Bob could see plainly that the officious conductor was
not popular, and he was wondering whether or not he was expected to
make any comment, when Hosmer said, his face suffused with a look of
glee:
"Well, the boys are going to put one over on the 'miser'."
And, pausing aggravatingly, the freight conductor filled his pipe and
lighted it.
His action produced the desired effect of tantalizing the brakemen, and
they exclaimed eagerly:
"Out with it, Hos'! Tell us! Let us in on it!"
Waiting a moment, to give his words greater emphasis, the conductor
removed his pipe from his mouth, and said:
"All the boys are going up to Sweeney's, order the swellest meal he can
put up, and send the bill to Jenkins!"
"Whoopee! Great! I wish we were in on it!" exclaimed the brakemen in
unison.
"Is that quite fair?" asked Bob, having hoped that his departure would
put an end to Tom's plan.
"Fair? Sure, it's fair!" laughed Hosmer. "Anyhow, I don't see why you
should care. He treated you mighty mean, taking your pass away from
you."
As the other trainmen agreed with the opinion of their conductor, Bob
made no further objection, contenting himself with the thought that he
could hardly be held responsible.
During the conversation, the long freight train had got under way, and
while the boy found many novel things to hold his attention, the
brakemen amused themselves speculating on the effect the joke would have
upon Jenkins.
As the engine whistled for a station, Hosmer said to Bob:
"How'd you like to ride on the engine till the next stop?"
"My, but it would be fun!" replied Bob, his eyes sparkling with delight.
"Then come on! I'll take you up and fix it with Barney, the engineer."
As the train stopped, with a loud creaking of brakes and groaning of
wheels, Bob jumped from the caboose and accompanied the burly conductor
to the head of the train.
"Hey, Barney!" he hailed the engineer.
The man thus addressed poked a coal-begrimed face from the window of his
cab, asking:
"What is it--wait orders?"
"Not this time. I've got a boy here--Bob Chester--who wants to ride with
you to the next station."
For a moment the engineer scowled, and Bob feared he would refuse. But
quickly the grimy face broke into a smile, as Barney asked:
"Is that the kid with a pass Jenkins left?"
"Yes."
"Sure he can ride with me. Help him up."
Bob, however, needed no assistance, and no sooner had the permission
been granted than he was climbing into the engine cab.
Before he had succeeded, Hosmer whispered:
"Barney's all right--and he doesn't like Jenkins. Tell him about the
joke the boys are going to play." And then he continued aloud: "I'll
either come for you, myself, or send some one when we reach Hastings.
Orders give us the right of way to Hastings, Barney."
"O.K.," grunted the engineer, as he turned to scrutinize Bob, at the
same time standing so that he could glance up the track toward the
station to catch the signal to start.
Acting on the conductor's advice, Bob narrated the plan Tom had devised
for having fun at Jenkins' expense, and was rewarded by seeing the
engineer's face break into a broad grin, and then to hear him roar with
laughter.
"That'll make 'Old Miser's' hair turn gray," he gasped between laughs.
"He'll never get over it, never!
"Oh, Ned," he called to his fireman, who had been out oiling some part
of the engine, "the boys are going to put one over on 'Miser' Jenkins."
But before the engineer had an opportunity to tell of the contemplated
joke, he caught the signal from the conductor to start.
"Get up on that seat on the left-hand side, and hang on," warned Barney,
and, as Bob obeyed, he pulled open the throttle.
As the iron monster began to move, puffing and smoking at the task of
starting the long train, it seemed to the boy that the noise would
deafen him. But he soon forgot it in the absorption of watching the
fireman open the doors of the firebox, throw in shovels-full of coals,
and then inspect the water and steam gauges.
With the gradual increasing of the speed, the din subsided. Yet a new
discomfort took its place. So violently did the engine sway, that Bob
was obliged to hang on to the window on his side of the cab to keep from
bouncing to the floor.
Watching out the corner of his eye, as he scanned the track ahead, the
engineer smiled at the boy's trouble in staying on the seat.
Bob, however, soon adapted himself to the engine's motion, and was
finally able to sit without clutching the window-frame.
Noting this, Barney got down, crossed the cab, and putting his mouth
close to the boy's ear, asked:
"Like to run the engine awhile?"
"Would I? I should say so!" returned Bob in delight.
Though his reply was inaudible, the expression on his face was eloquent.
"Then, take hold of my arm, so you won't get thrown out. That's the way.
Steady, now. Climb on to the seat. Good. Now, put your left hand on that
lever. That's what they call the throttle. When you pull it toward you,
it increases the speed; to slow down, you push it away from you."
Proud, indeed, did Bob feel as his hand clasped the smooth handle of the
lever. Never had he expected to run a real, snorting locomotive,
dragging a long line of cars, and the realization that he was actually
controlling the speed, set him a-tingle with delight.
Crowding in behind Bob, the engineer kept watch of the track, but not so
closely that he could not observe and enjoy the boy's pleasure.
After several minutes, Bob turned and shouted:
"Can I pull on the throttle a little?"
"Sure. Open her to the next notch. We've got plenty of steam."
But Bob found it was not so easy to get the notch as it seemed. He kept
gamely at it, however, and at last succeeded.
Till they reached the yard limit of Hastings, the engineer allowed him
to hold the throttle, and when he at last took it and began to ease
down the speed, Bob sighed wistfully.
As the big machine finally came to a stop with a grunt, Barney
exclaimed:
"You ought to be an engineer, boy. You've got the nerve to drive hard.
We did ten miles in twenty minutes--which is going some with this load."
Just then, however, the conductor came up.
"Like it, Bob?" he asked.
"Indeed, I did! Mr. Barney let me drive, and I made ten miles in twenty
minutes."
"Good boy! We'll make a railroad man out of you yet. Think you could
follow me back to the caboose over the cars?"
"I can try," returned Bob.
But before the attempt could be made, the conductor was called to the
station office to receive orders.
Swelled with pride at his success in driving the engine, Bob determined
to surprise the conductor by going back to the caboose alone.
And with a hearty good-bye to the engineer, he clambered over the
coal-stacked tender and up on to the top of a car.
The orders were to take a siding to allow a passenger train to pass,
and, as the time was short, the conductor was too busy sending his
brakemen to turn the switches and communicating the instructions to
the engineer, to think of Bob.
[Illustration: HE CLUTCHED FRANTICALLY AT ONE OF THE HAND BARS
_Bob Chester's Grit_ Page 123]
The boy, however, was making his way back slowly, but without mishap,
until the sudden start of the train. He had just climbed down from a
high car, and was swinging from it to an empty coal car, when the jerk
of starting ran through the line of cars.
So unexpected was this action, that Bob's feet slipped off the bumpers.
Crying out in alarm, he clutched frantically at one of the hand-bars on
the end of the coal car, caught it, and managed to draw himself up till
he found foothold on the extension of the floor where he stood, hanging
on for dear life, until the train stopped with another jerk.