There are one or two obvious reasons for a boiler’s priming; that is to say, throwing water as well as steam into the engine, but this sometimes happens when no cause can be assigned, and Fuller saw that Dick did not expect an answer to his question. It was rather an exclamation, prompted by his failure to solve a fascinating problem, and as such indicated that his interest in his task was not confined to the earning of a living. Fuller recognized the mind of the engineer.
“Well,” he replied, “there’s a good deal we don’t know yet about the action of fluids under pressure. But do you find the grade awkward when she’s steaming properly?”
“I can get up. Still, I think it will soon cost you as much in extra fuel as it would to relay this bit of line. Two hundred cubic yards cut out at the bend would make things much easier.”
“Two hundred yards?” said Fuller, studying the spot.
“Two hundred and fifty at the outside,” Dick answered confidently, and then felt embarrassed as he saw Miss Fuller for the first time. His clothes were few and dirty and he was awkwardly conscious that his hands and face were black. But his employer claimed his attention.
“What would you reckon the weight of the stuff?”
Dick told him after a short silence, and Fuller asked: “Two-thousand-pound tons?”
“Yes; I turned it into American weight.”
“Well,” said Fuller, “you must get on with your job now, but come up to my tent after supper.”
Dick started his locomotive, and when it panted away up the incline Fuller looked at his daughter with a smile.