Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE CALL OF SHINING STEEL. Finally the engineer spoke, looking down at Zeb who stood, feet aspraddle, perspira- tion standing out in big drops and running in ‘rivulets down his grimed face: “ Bud, take it easy. You're wasting yourself. You got enough coal in there now to steam her for two hours.”’ The fireman agreed. “ You was a hit- ting it so good, kid, I hated to stop you. But the best way to learn how to fire right Is to Jearn how to fire wrong. Here, lemme show you.” He pulled the slice bar down from the tender, raked the coal evenly across the fire, and protecting his hand from the hot iron with a piece of waste, he slid the bar back on the tender. \ ‘Come on here, now, and sit down,” he motioned to the seat beside him. “ And watch yer steam crawl up.”’ Zeb slumped down, stuck his head out the window, elbow crooked on the sill. This was as he had often pictured himself. But there was no thrill now. A great weariness hung heavy on him and he scarcely saw the foliage along the right of way. It was different, very different, from the way he had expected. There didn’t seem to be any excitement to the job, just work—hard, incessant toil. It was no fun at all, this stoking an engine. “Never mind, kid,” Jim's voice rang in his ears. ‘I’ll show you now. No use before you got shovel-wise, because you couldn’t understand. Fire ’em light, cross fire, sprinkle your coal, a shovel in one cor- ner, the next one in the opposite corner of the fire box. Go around, no two in the same place, and you'll be surprised how easy it is.”’ Zeb started to get down. “ Never mind, now. She'll pop in a minute without any more fire in her. Sit down and take it easy.”’ In a few minutes Zeb jumped clear of his seat as a shuddering, vibrating roar burst suddenly over the engine. The Hreman laughed, pointed at the steam gauge that showed one hundred and _ seventy-five pounds, flicked the injector back a notch, halted for @ second and pulled the handle all the way back. The roar fluttered a time or two, the pops seated, and only the rum- 2A Si? ble of the water flowing through the branch pipe into the boiler could be heard. “What you pull that alr handle for?” Zeb asked. Jim said: ‘“‘ You see the glass,” indicating the water gauge. ‘“ Well, watch the lme crawl up. This '’—touching the injector— ‘ puts the water into the boiler. Whenever she gets hot and near popping, you want to open the gun like I just did. Pull her back a little, wait till you feel her thump, then open her wide. The cold water soon cools ber down and she’ll stop blowing off.” The fireman shut off the injectar, the rumble ceased, and the local that had been standing at a station got under way again. After a few minutes Jim reminded, “ Better be puttin’ in a fire. Mind now, what I said. Sprinkle the coal light, kid, and it ‘ll come easy.” In an hour Zeb had the engine popping again. He opened the injector and heard the rumble of the water, the thump of the column lifting the boiler check. A feeling of supremacy thrilled through him. It wasn't at all hard. He was learning the trick. Of course he would get better at firing as he got the experience, but the worst was over, A smile lit up his face, the first smile of the day and he broke into a broad grin at the words of praise from Jim. “Kid, you're all right. That's the quickest I’ve ever seen any one learn to fire a jack.” Zeb. grinned thankfully back, tired but happy. There, just showing the corner of its red roof around the cufve, was the station of Ecclefechan. He had no idea that he had run this far. It seemed as though but an hour or two had passed since they left the yards. CHAPTER V. “ ITCHY-WITCHTy.” T the close of the eighteenth century, Wales was in a turmoil. The re ligious differences bet England and the little principality of the Welsh were the cause of many a bitter argument, His glance idly turned ahead. EO 1A@OO () SS Co