And then, well pleased with his own facility of diction, he got out a plug of tobacco, bit off a piece, and offered the plug to Bill. Bill accepted the offer, took a tremendous chew, and returned the remnant to its owner.
“And now, Pinkey,” he remarked, to the perspiring fireman, “if you’ll kindly git up a few more pounds of steam, we’ll be joggin’ along. Mebbe you don’t object to stayin’ here all night, but I’d like t’ git home t’ see my wife an’ children.”
“I’m a-doin’ my best,” responded Pinkey, desperately, “th’ ole brute jest won’t steam, an’ that’s all they is to it.”
“Yes,” said the engineer, with irony, but keeping one eye on the track ahead, “I’ve heerd firemen say th’ same thing lots o’ times. You’ve got to nuss her along, boy—don’t smother th’ fire that a-way. An’ keep th’ door shet.”
“How’m I a-goin’ t’ git th’ coal int’ th’ fire-box if I don’t open th’ door?” demanded Pinkey.
“Jim, swing it fer him,” said the engineer to the brakeman, and the latter, who had assisted at the breaking-in of many a green fireman, demonstrated to Pinkey how the door of the fire-box must be swung open and shut between each shovelful of coal. To fire an engine properly is an art which requires more than one lesson to acquire, but Pinkey made a little progress, and after awhile had the satisfaction of seeing the indicator-needle swing slowly up toward the point desired.
Just then, Michaels, glancing at his water-gauge, saw that it was getting rather low, and opened the throttle of the injector in order to fill the boiler; but instead of the water flowing smoothly through from the tank, there was a spurt of steam which filled the cab. He tried again, and with the same result.
“You blame fool!” he snorted, turning an irate face upon the unfortunate fireman, “didn’t you know enough t’ see that th’ tank was full afore we left Belpre? What ’d you think we’d steam on—air?”
“It was full,” quavered Pinkey. “I helped th’ hostler fill it.”