“I guess I'll manage to reach Antioch,” he added, as he ran across to the siding and swung himself into the cab.
A faded blue blouse and a pair of greasy overalls were lying on the seat in the cab. He removed his coat and vest and put them on. Durks, who had followed him, climbed up on the steps.
“You'll have to run slow, Mr. Oakley, because it's likely the heat has spread the rails, if it ain't twisted them loose from the ties,” he volunteered. For answer Oakley thrust a shovel into his hands.
“Here, throw in some coal,” he ordered, opening the furnace door.
Durks turned a sickly, mottled white.
“I can't leave,” he gasped.
“You idiot. You don't suppose I'd take you from your post. What I want you to do is to help me get up steam.”
The operator attacked the coal on the tender vigorously. He felt an immense sense of comfort.
Dan's railroad experience covered nearly every branch. So it chanced that he had fired for a year prior to taking an office position. Indeed, his first ambition had been to be an engineer. It was now quite dark, and, the fires being raked down, he lit a torch and inspected his engine with a comprehensive eye. Next he probed a two-foot oiler into the rods and bearings and filled the cups. He found a certain pleasure in the fact that the lore of the craft to which he had once aspired was still fresh in his mind.
“Baker keeps her in apple-pie order, Joe,” he observed, approvingly. The operator nodded.