“Well—we're here—and alive,” was about all I could say.
“I wonder how it feels to be back in the cars. Let's try it,” proposed Hawkins.
“But say, mister,” said the engineer, “who's going to run the darned machine, if you're not here?”
“Why, you, my man. You understand an engine of this sort, don't you? But of course you do. Here! This is the valve for the alcohol—this is the igniter—here are the brakes—this is the speed control. See? Oh, you won't find any difficulty in managing it. The Alcomotive is simplicity on wheels.”
“Yes, but I've got a wife and family——” the unhappy man began.
“Well,” said Hawkins, icily.
“And if the thing should balk——”
“Balk! Rats! Come, Griggs. It's time you started, my man. I'll wave my hand when we reach the car.”
Frankly, I think that it was a downright contemptible trick to play on the defenceless engineer. Had I been able to render him any assistance, I should have stayed with him.
But Hawkins was already trotting back to the cars, and, with a murmured benediction for the hapless mechanic who stood and trembled alone on the platform of the Alcomotive, I followed.