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.”