The regular engineers were in high dudgeon with the forth-putting brakeman. What right had he to know how to cure an evil that had baffled them? His words, however, were reported at head-quarters; and the contractor was not long in hastening over to see if he could make his words good.
"Well, George," he said, "they tell me you think you can put that engine to rights."
"Yes, sir," replied the young man modestly; "I think I can."
As matters could be no worse, Mr. Dodds was ready to let him try; and George agreed, on condition that he should choose his own men to help him. The old hands were highly indignant, but there was no help for it. So they were ordered off, and George with his gang went on.
The engine was taken to pieces, examined, righted, and put together again. It was set to work. Did it go? Many a looker-on shook his head doubtfully, and prophesied in his inmost heart, "No go." It pumped and pumped. The obstinate water found it had an antagonist that could master it. In less than two days it disappeared from the pit, and workmen were sent to the bottom. Who could gainsay George's skill?
Mr. Dodds, of course, was delighted. Over and above his wages he put a ten-pound note into the young man's hand, and engaged him to superintend his works for the future.
A profitable job was this.
The fame of this engineering exploit spread far and wide. As an engine doctor he took the lead, and many a wheezy old thing was brought him to cure. Envious engineers tried to put him down. But real merit cannot be put down. It is stern stuff.
George's cottage showed the bent of his tastes. It was like an old curiosity shop, full of models of engines, complete or in parts, hanging and standing round; for busy as he had need to be—eking out his means by engineering, by clocks, and by coats—the construction and improvement of machinery for the collieries was his hobby.
Likeness of taste drew a young farmer often to the cottage—John Wigham—who spent most of his evenings in George's society. John had a smattering of chemistry and philosophy, and a superior knowledge of mathematics, which made him a desirable companion. George put himself under his tuition, and again took to "figuring." Tasks set him in the evening were worked out among the rough toils of the day. And so much honest purpose did not fail to secure progress. Drawing was another new line of effort. Sheets of plans and sections gave his rude desk the air of mind-work somewhere. Thus their winter evenings passed away.