“Don’t you worry about Mr. Ganzell, but do as I told you. He sent me for a man. Get inter the cab.”
Frank hesitated no longer, although he was filled with wonder.
Often when short of firemen the yard engineers would take one of the wipers, but it did not seem possible to Frank that he had been selected for such work.
Merry swung up into the cab, and Hobson leisurely followed. Several wipers stared in astonishment, not one of them regarding it as possible that the boy who had been at work in the roundhouse but a short time had been chosen to fire on 91.
The engineer glanced at the gauge, and then looked to see that everything was in place.
“Ring,” he said, for he had received the signal to go ahead.
Frank pulled the bell-rope, and Hobson opened her up a little and let off the brake. Then 91 ran out of the roundhouse into the yard, and was switched onto a certain track.
“Keep the gauge about where she is now,” said the engineer.
Then Frank knew he had been selected to fire on that engine for the time being, at least. His heart gave a great leap of joy, but he simply and calmly said:
“All right, sir.”