The boys’ attention was called to the engine, by the station-master coming up in a rage to the driver, and stamping his foot on the ground, shouting, “Here’s the ninth day this week that you have come in punctually, when you know that it is against the rules. You must have a blowing up.”
“All right, sir,” said the driver, meekly; and mounting the engine, he quietly took his seat upon the safety-valve.
ANOTHER.
The boys, who had bought a little steam-engine with the savings of pocket-money carefully hoarded for many months, knew something of the danger of this proceeding from the printed directions sent with their engine, and Norval cried out, “Oh, don’t do that, or there will be a burst!”
“All right, little un,” said the driver, “it’ll get me hup in the world.”
As he spoke he was shot into the air as high as the tall policeman’s head, and the boys shut their eyes in horror, thinking he must be killed. But on opening them again, to their surprise they saw him at his post, quietly buttering a piece of bread with wheel-grease, and taking a drink out of the engine’s oil-can.
“Are you not hurt?” asked Jaques, anxiously.
“Yes, ’urt in my feelin’s. It’s wery ’ard hafter getting so ’igh to have to come down to this agin; but we must take things has they comes or goes, has the man said when ’is ’ead flew hoff on bein’ axed to do so.”
A POT-BOILER.