Christy was a powerful man, and with a desperate effort he shook off my father, hurling him upon the floor with much violence. Having shaken off his fierce assailant, he rushed from the engine-room to the gang-plank forward, by which the passengers were coming on board, and disappeared in the crowd. Without waiting to learn the condition of my father, I followed him. I lost sight of him in the throng, but I commenced an earnest search for him. Presently I discovered him skulking along by the train on the side opposite that at which the passengers were getting out.
The engine had been detached from the train, and had moved forward to the water tank to have her tender filled. The engineer had left the locomotive to speak with a friend on the wharf; and the fireman, after the tender was filled, helped the men throw in the wood. I went ahead of the engine, where I could observe the movements of Christy. I thought he would hide till the train started, and then jump on board. If he did, I meant to be a passenger on the same train.
The tender was filled with wood, and the men walked away, including the fireman. The moment they had gone, Christy sneaked along by the woodsheds, and jumped upon the locomotive. He could not see me, for I was concealed by the smoke-stack. He started the engine. I jumped upon the cow-catcher. In a moment, as he let on the steam, the locomotive was flying like lightning over the rails. I clung to the cow-catcher till the motion was steady, and then climbed up to the side of the machine, exhibiting myself to the astonished villain. At this moment, I happened to think of Waddie’s revolver in my pocket. It was a useful plaything for an emergency like this, and I drew it forth.
CHAPTER V.
CHRISTY HOLGATE.
“Stop her!” I shouted again and again to Christy Holgate, as I pointed the pistol at his head through the window of the cab.
When I first made my appearance, he had thrust his head and shoulders through the window, apparently to examine the situation, and determine in what manner he could best dispose of me. I threatened to shoot him, and he drew in his head, placing himself where I could not see him without changing my position.
I pointed the pistol at Christy and threatened to fire; but I had as little taste for shooting a man as I had for eating him, and I beg the privilege of adding, that I am not a cannibal. I found it very easy to talk about firing, but very much harder to do it. Christy had proved that he was a villain, and a very mean villain too; but I found it quite impossible to carry my threat into execution. I could reason it out that he deserved to be shot, and as he was running away with my father’s money, and did not stop the engine when I told him to do so, that it would be perfectly right for me to shoot him.
If I had been a bloodthirsty, brutal monster, instead of an ordinary boy of sixteen, with human feelings, I suppose I could have fired the pistol while the muzzle covered the head of the rascal in the cab. If I had not been afraid of killing him, I think I should have fired; for I had considerable confidence in my skill as a marksman, though it had not been fortified by much practical experience.
Though Christy had been very useful in enabling me to enlarge my knowledge of the mysteries of the marine engine, and though I was reasonably grateful to him for the privilege he had afforded me, I did not feel under great obligations to him. Whenever I made a trip with him in the engine-room, for the purpose of studying my favorite theme, he invariably set me at work upon some dirty job, either at oiling the machinery or cleaning the bright parts. He was rather stout, and it was always my function to climb up and oil the gudgeons and other working parts of the walking-beam. I had done almost everything pertaining to an engine, under his direction. He used to praise me without stint, and call me a smart boy; which perhaps he intended as my reward, though I found it in the knowledge and experience I had gained.