CHAPTER XXVIII.

FIRING A FREIGHT ENGINE.

The next morning Frank came to the roundhouse at an early hour, for he knew it was his duty to have his engine ready when the engineer appeared.

Old Slugs came up and said:

“I’m glad for ye, boy, but the gang is mighty sore, and ye’ll have your troubles. They don’t like to have a man push in over them the way you have done.”

“I have simply taken things that came my way,” declared Frank.

“That’s all right, but it don’t make no difference. They hate ye just as bad for havin’ the chance.”

“Well, I can’t help that.”

“Of course not. They think I ought to make a kick, but I ain’t sore, and I think you got the place because you was smart, as well as lucky. You and I ain’t never had no trouble since that first time, have we?”

“No.”

“Well, we won’t. I wish ye good luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hall.”

Old Slugs slouched away to his work, and, ten minutes later, Frank was set to getting Engine 33 ready.

Merry started when he was put onto that engine, for it was run by his worst enemy on the road, old Joe Hicks, the uncle of the lame boy and blind girl.

Old Joe had tried in every way possible to injure Merry, but had failed in every attempt.

Not a word did Frank say, but climbed onto the engine and went to work making her ready. He knew there would be a warm time when the engineer appeared.

Old Joe came hurrying in and climbed aboard the engine without noticing Frank. When he saw Merry he stopped short, stared at him a moment, and uttered a curse.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he snarled, looking as if he longed to fly at the youth.

“Getting this engine ready to go out,” was the calm answer.

“The deuce you are! What’s the matter with Bob?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I was put onto this engine to fire.”

“Well, I’m blowed if I’ll have it! Get off!”

“No, sir.”

“This is my engine, and----”

“You run her, but you don’t own her.”

“I’ll never run her an inch with you on board.”

“All right. But your chances of running her any more is mighty small if you stick to that.”

“You talk as if you owned the road.”

Frank was silent, for he did not care to waste his breath on the man unnecessarily, and he felt that he had said quite enough. Old Joe snarled at him, and threatened him, but Frank remained unruffled.

“You don’t know how to fire, anyway,” declared the man. “Why, you’ve been at work less than a month. I need a good man on my engine, and I’ll have one.”

“Anyone would think you were running a passenger engine to hear you talk,” said Frank.

“It’s harder runnin’ a freight engine, as you’d know, if you knew anything. You have to dodge all the passenger trains on the line, and you get the devil if you don’t make time. I’m blowed if I’ll keep you on this engine.”

Frank decided that the time had come for him to assert himself, so he straightened up and faced the engineer, looking him straight in the eye as he said:

“Look here, Mr. Hicks, I can fire this engine as well as anybody, and I am going to fire her. You can’t frighten me with a lot of talk, and, as far as you are concerned, I have heard enough from you. I have stood too much from you in times past, and now I tell you what I’ll do. If you work against me and get me dropped off this engine, I’ll thrash you as I did Old Slugs every day for a year!”

This talk was “square from the shoulder,” and it set the engineer to gasping.

“Well, I’ll be blowed!” he muttered.

It took him some moments to recover, and then he grated:

“I’ll take her out alone before I’ll have you!”

Then he jumped down from the cab and made for the office.

Frank kept about his work, and had 33 ready when old Joe came back, looking sour enough. Without a word, he got on and pulled out for the train shed.

It was not till they were coupled on and ready to start that Joe spoke. Then he growled:

“You’ve got to keep her hot, and if you make me lose time for want of steam, I’ll report you to the general manager.”

“That will be all right,” came quietly from Frank. “If you are looking for steam, you shall have all you want.”

Then Frank started in to keep the firebox door and the shovel on the swing, having resolved to give old Joe what he asked for. The engineer sat on his seat and scowled blackly, but said not a word as Frank “ladled in the lampblack.”

To Merry’s surprise, he was unable to get up more steam; in fact, the gauge dropped off a little, even though he worked like a slave. That was something he could not understand, but he thought at first that the fault was with him.

Old Joe looked ugly and triumphant.

“I told ye you didn’t know how to fire,” he said, after a while. “You’re a slouch.”

“And it is my opinion that you are a pounder,” returned Frank, a trifle warmly.

“Ya-ah!” snarled the engineer. “Mebbe you think you can run her better than I can?”

Up to this time Frank had paid no attention to the manner in which she was being run, as all his time had been taken up in shoveling. Now, however, he began to watch old Joe on the quiet.

When the first coaling station was reached, it was necessary to stop and take on coal and water, although Frank knew well enough that not half as much coal should have been used.

After this station was left, Frank resumed the task of keeping the shovel swinging as regularly as the pendulum of a clock. All the while, however, he was thinking. Something told him that he was being worked too hard, but it was not easy for him, a green hand, to discover how it was being done.

At last Frank observed that there was a certain notch in the quadrant that was worn smooth and bright, but old Joe was not running her there. He had her hooked up to a different notch, and he was not cutting off when he could help it, but was wasting every ounce of steam that he could.

When Merry realized this he began to grow warm.

“Look here, Mr. Hicks,” he said, “I am getting tired of this.”

Old Joe grinned in an ugly way.

“Knew ye would,” he grunted. “You’re too tender.”

“It’s not that. But you are making needless work for me just because you do not like me. You are not running her right.”

Then the old engineer was furious.

“Drat ye!” he snarled. “Don’t ye talk to me in my own cab like that! I won’t stand it!”

Then he leaped on Merry so suddenly that Frank was flung from his feet. They went down together, the man on top. He had a wrench in his hand, and he swung it aloft.

“Aha! I’ll fix ye now!” he howled.