“Come on, Allan, we’ve got t’ be gittin’ back,” said Jack. “An’ thank y’ ag’in, boys,” and together he and Allan turned back toward the waiting train.
Section Twenty-one was the last inspected before dinner, which was awaiting them in the big depot dining-room at Wadsworth. The officers came down from division headquarters to shake hands with the men as they sat grouped about the long tables, and good-natured chaff flew back and forth. But at last the engine-bell announced that the green-decked train was ready to be off again eastward, over the last hundred miles of the division, which ended at Parkersburg.
The men swarmed into their places again, and silence fell instantly as the train started, rattling over the switches until it was clear of the yards, then settling into a regular click, click, as it swung out upon the main line. It must be confessed that this portion of the trip had little interest for Allan. The monotony of it—mile after mile of track gliding steadily away—began to wear upon him. He was no expert in track-construction, and one stretch of road-bed looked to him much like every other. So, before long, he found himself nodding, and, when he straightened up with a jerk and opened his eyes, he found Jack looking at him with a little smile.
They ran in upon a siding at Moonville to make way for a passenger-train, and Jack, beckoning to Allan, climbed out upon the track.
“I kin see you’re gittin’ tired,” said Jack, as they walked up and down, stretching their legs. “I ought to let you stop back there at Wadsworth. But mebbe I kin give y’ somethin’ more interestin’ fer th’ rest o’ th’ trip. How’d y’ like t’ ride in th’ engine?”
Allan’s eyes sparkled.
“Do you think I might?” he asked, eagerly.
Jack laughed.
“I thought that’d wake y’ up! Yes,—we’ve got Bill Higgins with us on this end, an’ I rather think he’ll let you ride in th’ cab. Let’s find out.”
So they walked over to where the engineer was “oiling round,” in railroad parlance—going slowly about his engine with a long-spouted oil-can in one hand and a piece of waste in the other, filling the oil-cups, wiping off the bearings, feeling them to see if they were too hot, crawling under the boiler to inspect the link motion—in short, petting his engine much as one might pet a horse.