A lot of people got out of the train and stood around watching and the engineer sat in his window looking as if he were very mad at the donkey. But anyway the donkey didn’t care. When we got close enough we could see that the wagon had emery wheels in it for grinding knives and scissors and scythes and things like that and they went by a gas engine.
The man was shouting, “Hey! Whater de mat? You go! Hey, whater de mat?”
I said, “We ought to have someone who can translate Italian. Suppose you shout at him, Pee-wee; if that doesn’t start him nothing will.”
The man kept jerking the donkey’s bit, all excited, and shouting, “Hey you, giddup, whater de mat?”
Two or three passengers started pulling and jerking the donkey, and one tried to push him, but it didn’t do any good. I felt mighty grateful to that donkey. Anyway he had a will of his own, that’s one sure thing. About a half a dozen passengers kept tugging at him but it didn’t do any good. He just braced his legs and let them pull.
I said, “Maybe if we hold some grass in front of him he’ll follow it.” But that didn’t work; I guess he wasn’t hungry.
Pretty soon Warde said, “I’ve got an idea; let’s move him with the gas engine. That engine’s about six horse power; it ought to be stronger than one donkey power.”
“It’s an insulation!” Pee-wee shouted.
“You mean an inspiration,” I told him.
“Hey, giddup; hey you,” the Italian kept shouting, all the time hitting the donkey with the whip.