CHAPTER VI.ON THE LOCOMOTIVE.I was entirely satisfied with myself as I put the pocket-book into my breast pocket, and carefully buttoned my coat. I felt as though I had really done “a big thing,” allowing the phrase to mean even more than boys usually attach to it. How my father would rejoice to see that money again! How thankful he would be for the success which had attended my efforts!The pocket-book was in my possession, and I was too much excited to look into it. I was somewhat afraid, if I did not keep both eyes open, that Christy would come out of the woods and undo the work I had accomplished. I could hear him forcing his way through the underbrush as he retreated; but I still kept the revolver where I could make use of it if occasion required. It seemed to me then that myquarrel with Mr. Waddie had been a fortunate circumstance, since the possession of the pistol had enabled me to recover the pocket-book. I was rather thankful to the scion for his agency in the matter, and willing, when the time of settlement came, to make some concessions, if needful, to his vanity and pride.Christy had piled the wood into the fire-box for a hard run, and the locomotive was hissing and quivering with the pressure of steam upon it. By the unwritten law of succession, the care of the machine devolved upon me, and I am willing to confess that I was not displeased with the task imposed upon me. To run the engine alone, with no one to volunteer any instructions or limitations to me, was a delightful duty; and I was so absorbed by the prospect that I gave no further thought to the pocket-book. It was safe, and that was enough.I must run the locomotive back to Ucayga; but I was fully equal to the task. I knew every part of the machine, and had entire confidence in my own ability. I did not exactly like to run her backwards; but, as there was no turn-table at hand, Ihad no choice. Reversing the valves, I let on the steam very gradually, and the engine moved off according to my calculations. I gave her more steam, and she began to rush over the rails at a velocity which startled me, when I considered that the motions of the machine were under my control.I had to keep a lookout over the top of the tender, and at the same time watch the furnace, the gauge-cocks, and the indicator; and of course I had to observe them much more closely than would have been necessary for a person of more experience. Having my hands and my head full, something less than thirty miles an hour was sufficient to gratify my ambition. I knew nothing about the roads which crossed the track, and therefore I kept up a constant whistling and ringing of the bell. It was exciting, I can testify, to any one who never tried to run a locomotive under similar circumstances. I was doing duty as engineer and fireman, and I could not think of anything but the business in hand.It would have been exceedingly awkward and unpleasant to burst the boiler, or run over a vehicle crossing the track, and I did not wish to have myfirst venture on a locomotive damaged by such an accident. I kept a sharp lookout, both before and behind me. It was a new position to me, and I enjoyed the novelty of it, in spite of the fear of being blown up, or smashed by a collision. I kept the whistle sounding, and as the engine whirled around a bend, after I had been running fifteen or twenty minutes, I saw some men lifting a hand-car from the track in great haste. They had heard my warning in season to prevent the catastrophe I dreaded.“Stop her!” shouted one of the party, with all his might, as the engine thundered by him.A glance at the party assured me that one of them was the engineer of the train. I shut off the steam, and put on the brake. As it was a down grade, the engine went about a mile before I could stop her. But, as soon as I had brought her to a halt, I reversed the valves again, and went ahead till I came up with the party, who were just putting the hand-car upon the track again. The engineer and fireman leaped upon the foot-board. The former was much excited, and I was not a little surprised tofind that he did not even thank me for bringing back his engine.“What does all this mean?” he demanded, with an oath. “What did you run away with the engine for?”“I did not run away with her; I only brought her back,” I replied, indignantly.“Who was the man that stole the money?”“That was Christy Holgate; he was the man that ran away with the engine.”“Who are you?”“I’m Wolf Penniman. The money was stolen from my father. When I saw Christy leap into the cab, I jumped upon the cow-catcher.”“Then you are the boy they were looking for down to the station.”“I don’t know about that. I had a pistol, and I made Christy stop her, and give me the pocket-book. He got off then, and ran into the woods. I ran the engine back again.”“I’m sorry you didn’t shoot the rascal,” added the engineer, as he examined into the condition of the locomotive.“I got the pocket-book again, and that was all I wanted. I didn’t wish to kill him.”“Who told you how to run an engine?” asked the engineer, as he started the locomotive.“My father is an engineer, and I’ve always been among engines, though I never ran a locomotive alone before.”“I suppose you think you can run one now?”“Yes, sir; I can put her through by daylight,” I replied, using a pet phrase of mine.“You have done very well, sonny,” said he, with a smile; and he could afford to smile, though he growled a great deal at being an hour behind time by the event of losing his engine.He asked me a great many questions about Christy and the robbery; and the conversation was only interrupted by our arrival at the Ucayga station, where the impatient passengers were waiting to continue their journey. I jumped off; the engine was shackled to the train again, and went on its way.“Halloo, Wolf!” called the captain of the steamer to me. “Where is Christy?”“I don’t know, sir. He jumped off the locomotive, and ran away into the woods.”A crowd of people gathered around me to hear my story, for the facts of the robbery had been related by my father. I felt the pocket-book in my coat, and declined to answer any questions till I had seen my father. I was told he was on board of the steamer, and I hastened to find him. He was in the engine-room, where I had left him. He was still deadly pale, and seemed to have grown ten years older in a single hour.“Where have you been, Wolf?” asked he, in a voice almost choking with emotion.“I have been after Christy.”“Did you catch him?” he asked, in a sepulchral tone.“I was on the engine with him. Here is your pocket-book, father.”He grasped it with convulsive energy, and seemed to grow young again in a moment. The crowd, most of whom were passengers in the steamer, gathered in the gangway, by the side of the engine-room, to learn the facts. In an excited manner I began to tell my story.“What does he say? Speak louder, boy!” called the men behind me.Though I did not feel like haranguing a multitude, I raised my voice.“Good! Good!” shouted the crowd, when I came to the point where I aimed the revolver at Christy in the cab. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”“When I drew a bead upon him he stopped the engine, and gave up the pocket-book,” I continued, with boyish exhilaration.“Wolf, you have saved me,” gasped my delighted father; “but I am rather sorry you did not shoot the villain.”“We are wasting the whole day here,” said the captain of the boat, nervously. “We have no engineer now. Ralph, will you run us up the lake?”“Certainly I will,” replied my father, taking his place at the machinery.I sat down in the engine-room with him and answered the questions he put to me about the affair. He obeyed the signals given him by the bells, and as soon as the boat was going ahead at full speed, he took a seat at my side.“Wolf, I have suffered more to-day than in all the rest of my lifetime,” said he, wiping the perspirationfrom his brow. “If I had lost that money, it would well nigh have killed me. It was a lucky thing that you took that pistol from Waddie.”“It happened just right; Christy was afraid of it, and when I got the muzzle to bear upon him, he came down, like Crockett’s coon,” I answered, with no little self-complaisance.“Was he willing to give it up?”“He couldn’t help himself. If he hadn’t given it up, I should have put a bullet through him.”“I’m glad you didn’t have to do that; on the whole, though, I shouldn’t have cared much if you had shot him,” added my father, putting his hand upon the pocket-book to assure himself of its present safety. “I wouldn’t have believed Christy could be guilty of such a mean trick. But it was my fault, Wolf. You saw how it was done, and it has been a lesson to me which I shall never forget.”My father sighed heavily as he thought of the circumstances, and I fancy he promised himself then never again to touch whiskey.“Did Christy open the pocket-book?” he asked, after a silence of some minutes.“I don’t know. I didn’t see him open it, and I don’t know when he could have had time to do so,” I replied.“It don’t look as though it had been touched,” said he, taking the pocket-book from his pocket, and proceeding to open it.“I guess it is all right, father,” I added.“All right!” gasped he. “There is not a single dollar in it!”My father groaned in bitterness of spirit. I looked into the open pocket-book. The money had all been taken from it!
ON THE LOCOMOTIVE.
I was entirely satisfied with myself as I put the pocket-book into my breast pocket, and carefully buttoned my coat. I felt as though I had really done “a big thing,” allowing the phrase to mean even more than boys usually attach to it. How my father would rejoice to see that money again! How thankful he would be for the success which had attended my efforts!
The pocket-book was in my possession, and I was too much excited to look into it. I was somewhat afraid, if I did not keep both eyes open, that Christy would come out of the woods and undo the work I had accomplished. I could hear him forcing his way through the underbrush as he retreated; but I still kept the revolver where I could make use of it if occasion required. It seemed to me then that myquarrel with Mr. Waddie had been a fortunate circumstance, since the possession of the pistol had enabled me to recover the pocket-book. I was rather thankful to the scion for his agency in the matter, and willing, when the time of settlement came, to make some concessions, if needful, to his vanity and pride.
Christy had piled the wood into the fire-box for a hard run, and the locomotive was hissing and quivering with the pressure of steam upon it. By the unwritten law of succession, the care of the machine devolved upon me, and I am willing to confess that I was not displeased with the task imposed upon me. To run the engine alone, with no one to volunteer any instructions or limitations to me, was a delightful duty; and I was so absorbed by the prospect that I gave no further thought to the pocket-book. It was safe, and that was enough.
I must run the locomotive back to Ucayga; but I was fully equal to the task. I knew every part of the machine, and had entire confidence in my own ability. I did not exactly like to run her backwards; but, as there was no turn-table at hand, Ihad no choice. Reversing the valves, I let on the steam very gradually, and the engine moved off according to my calculations. I gave her more steam, and she began to rush over the rails at a velocity which startled me, when I considered that the motions of the machine were under my control.
I had to keep a lookout over the top of the tender, and at the same time watch the furnace, the gauge-cocks, and the indicator; and of course I had to observe them much more closely than would have been necessary for a person of more experience. Having my hands and my head full, something less than thirty miles an hour was sufficient to gratify my ambition. I knew nothing about the roads which crossed the track, and therefore I kept up a constant whistling and ringing of the bell. It was exciting, I can testify, to any one who never tried to run a locomotive under similar circumstances. I was doing duty as engineer and fireman, and I could not think of anything but the business in hand.
It would have been exceedingly awkward and unpleasant to burst the boiler, or run over a vehicle crossing the track, and I did not wish to have myfirst venture on a locomotive damaged by such an accident. I kept a sharp lookout, both before and behind me. It was a new position to me, and I enjoyed the novelty of it, in spite of the fear of being blown up, or smashed by a collision. I kept the whistle sounding, and as the engine whirled around a bend, after I had been running fifteen or twenty minutes, I saw some men lifting a hand-car from the track in great haste. They had heard my warning in season to prevent the catastrophe I dreaded.
“Stop her!” shouted one of the party, with all his might, as the engine thundered by him.
A glance at the party assured me that one of them was the engineer of the train. I shut off the steam, and put on the brake. As it was a down grade, the engine went about a mile before I could stop her. But, as soon as I had brought her to a halt, I reversed the valves again, and went ahead till I came up with the party, who were just putting the hand-car upon the track again. The engineer and fireman leaped upon the foot-board. The former was much excited, and I was not a little surprised tofind that he did not even thank me for bringing back his engine.
“What does all this mean?” he demanded, with an oath. “What did you run away with the engine for?”
“I did not run away with her; I only brought her back,” I replied, indignantly.
“Who was the man that stole the money?”
“That was Christy Holgate; he was the man that ran away with the engine.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Wolf Penniman. The money was stolen from my father. When I saw Christy leap into the cab, I jumped upon the cow-catcher.”
“Then you are the boy they were looking for down to the station.”
“I don’t know about that. I had a pistol, and I made Christy stop her, and give me the pocket-book. He got off then, and ran into the woods. I ran the engine back again.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t shoot the rascal,” added the engineer, as he examined into the condition of the locomotive.
“I got the pocket-book again, and that was all I wanted. I didn’t wish to kill him.”
“Who told you how to run an engine?” asked the engineer, as he started the locomotive.
“My father is an engineer, and I’ve always been among engines, though I never ran a locomotive alone before.”
“I suppose you think you can run one now?”
“Yes, sir; I can put her through by daylight,” I replied, using a pet phrase of mine.
“You have done very well, sonny,” said he, with a smile; and he could afford to smile, though he growled a great deal at being an hour behind time by the event of losing his engine.
He asked me a great many questions about Christy and the robbery; and the conversation was only interrupted by our arrival at the Ucayga station, where the impatient passengers were waiting to continue their journey. I jumped off; the engine was shackled to the train again, and went on its way.
“Halloo, Wolf!” called the captain of the steamer to me. “Where is Christy?”
“I don’t know, sir. He jumped off the locomotive, and ran away into the woods.”
A crowd of people gathered around me to hear my story, for the facts of the robbery had been related by my father. I felt the pocket-book in my coat, and declined to answer any questions till I had seen my father. I was told he was on board of the steamer, and I hastened to find him. He was in the engine-room, where I had left him. He was still deadly pale, and seemed to have grown ten years older in a single hour.
“Where have you been, Wolf?” asked he, in a voice almost choking with emotion.
“I have been after Christy.”
“Did you catch him?” he asked, in a sepulchral tone.
“I was on the engine with him. Here is your pocket-book, father.”
He grasped it with convulsive energy, and seemed to grow young again in a moment. The crowd, most of whom were passengers in the steamer, gathered in the gangway, by the side of the engine-room, to learn the facts. In an excited manner I began to tell my story.
“What does he say? Speak louder, boy!” called the men behind me.
Though I did not feel like haranguing a multitude, I raised my voice.
“Good! Good!” shouted the crowd, when I came to the point where I aimed the revolver at Christy in the cab. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”
“When I drew a bead upon him he stopped the engine, and gave up the pocket-book,” I continued, with boyish exhilaration.
“Wolf, you have saved me,” gasped my delighted father; “but I am rather sorry you did not shoot the villain.”
“We are wasting the whole day here,” said the captain of the boat, nervously. “We have no engineer now. Ralph, will you run us up the lake?”
“Certainly I will,” replied my father, taking his place at the machinery.
I sat down in the engine-room with him and answered the questions he put to me about the affair. He obeyed the signals given him by the bells, and as soon as the boat was going ahead at full speed, he took a seat at my side.
“Wolf, I have suffered more to-day than in all the rest of my lifetime,” said he, wiping the perspirationfrom his brow. “If I had lost that money, it would well nigh have killed me. It was a lucky thing that you took that pistol from Waddie.”
“It happened just right; Christy was afraid of it, and when I got the muzzle to bear upon him, he came down, like Crockett’s coon,” I answered, with no little self-complaisance.
“Was he willing to give it up?”
“He couldn’t help himself. If he hadn’t given it up, I should have put a bullet through him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to do that; on the whole, though, I shouldn’t have cared much if you had shot him,” added my father, putting his hand upon the pocket-book to assure himself of its present safety. “I wouldn’t have believed Christy could be guilty of such a mean trick. But it was my fault, Wolf. You saw how it was done, and it has been a lesson to me which I shall never forget.”
My father sighed heavily as he thought of the circumstances, and I fancy he promised himself then never again to touch whiskey.
“Did Christy open the pocket-book?” he asked, after a silence of some minutes.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see him open it, and I don’t know when he could have had time to do so,” I replied.
“It don’t look as though it had been touched,” said he, taking the pocket-book from his pocket, and proceeding to open it.
“I guess it is all right, father,” I added.
“All right!” gasped he. “There is not a single dollar in it!”
My father groaned in bitterness of spirit. I looked into the open pocket-book. The money had all been taken from it!