Adventure Magazine Cover — page 127: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

and two months and never lost a minute. They picked Paddy because he was one of the best. And Paddy coupled his fresh engine to the Special as it paused a few minutes in the Santee station after the run from Sky City. Took a last hasty look around the ma- chinery, settled his bulk firmly on the cab seat, knotted his blue bandanna tighter around his neck, dropped his goggles around his neck, drew on his gauntlets, got the high ball, and eased his huge superheater into motion as sweetly as ever a soft summer breeze touched a maiden’s cheek. A nice run it promised to be. And then, somewhere in the first fifty miles, Watkins, the fireman, touched the scoop handle with the end of his rake. The scoop, that flexible lip beneath the tank which the fireman lowers as they run over a long, shallow, water-filled trough stretched between the rails, and which scoops the water out of that trough, saving a stop at a water-tank, swung down. As they thundered past the next little station, the heavy crossing planks caught the low-hanging lip and put it out of com- mission. A second time Watkins struck the valve. Saw it that time, thought he had just moved it, and put it back in position. When they roared over the long trough and the broken scoop scattered water out between the Special and a long freight which December 8, 1926 was passing, Watkins let the matter go at that. He worked his fire for the next few minutes. And by the time he struggled over the top of the coal with a lighted lan- tern, lifted the tank lid, and discovered that the scoop had failed, they were past Twin Pine water-tower. And no water in sight before Petersburg, the end of the Santee Division. Paddy Reese took the news with a grin, shrugged his fat shoulders, and cut the valve action a trifle leaner to conserve steam. “We'll make it stretch,” he shouted to Watkins above the roar of their progress. And Paddy did his best. But luck was against him. The water didn’t stretch far enough. Even after the injectors gave a last gurgle and lapsed into uselessness Paddy drove her. But five miles from Petersburg his prudence got the upper hand. And he stopped the Special right on the main line, ordered Watkins to bank his fire black, and telephoned for a fresh engine to pull them in. E Special was an hour late. The f Santee Division drew a black mark. The throng which had gathered at the Petersburg station to watch the Presi- dent pass had time to cool its heels. And back in Santee, McGann had fourteen cat fits right in a row. I21I NOOK C©