CHAPTER XX.

THE LIGHTNING EXPRESS TRAIN.

There was something about Tommy’s actions which I did not like. Though he spoke to me, as before, the old grudge was not wiped out. I saw that he and Lewis Holgate were very thick together, and I soon found that my fireman had ceased to be as tractable as at first. I heard he had reported among the boys that I was a Wimpletonian at heart, and would sell out the Lake Shore Railroad to the other side any time when I could get a chance.

The road was completed, and I ran the first train through to Ucayga. Major Toppleton had altered the Middleport into a ferry-boat at my suggestion, and she plied, in connection with the railroad, from our station on one side of the river to the town on the other. When we had gone over the ground a few times, the major sprang the trap. The two boats which ran the whole length of the lake were advertised to start from Middleport, touching at Centreport. Passengers from the latter place could cross in one of them, and go by the railroad to Ucayga--they could, but they did not like to do so. The steamers plied in connection with the road, and the Centreporters were as angry as though they had been shut out from the rest of the world; for their splendid boat was not yet ready to run in opposition to the new arrangement.

On Monday morning the Lightning Express train was to make its first trip. Major Toppleton told me to be sure and “make time.” The track had been carefully examined, and strengthened where it was weak. I was to prove to the Centreporters that a steamboat could not compete with the Lake Shore Railroad. Everybody was excited, and the president of the road absented himself from school, in order to see that the programme was properly carried out. I could have dispensed with his services; but he insisted upon riding on the foot-board, probably to see that I did not sell out the concern to the other side.

“The cars are full, Wolf;” said Tommy, after I had backed the locomotive into the station, and the cars were shackled to it.

“I am glad to hear it,” I replied.

“I saw quite a number of people from the other side among the passengers.”

“So much the better. We shall convince them that we can make time on this side of the lake.”

Turning suddenly as I made this remark, I saw Lewis Holgate give Tommy a significant wink. I did not understand what it meant, and it troubled me a little. I should have been very glad to get rid of my fireman; but he was on such intimate terms with the president that it was useless for me to say anything. He did not attend to his duty, did not keep the working parts of the engine well oiled, and even neglected his fires. In fact, he had risen above his business since he had run the dummy.

“All aboard!” shouted the gentlemanly conductor, as he gave me the signal to start.

As I always did before I let on the steam, I glanced at the machinery around me. The reversing lever had been changed since I adjusted it. It must have been done by one of my companions in the cab. I restored the lever to its proper position for going ahead, and opened the throttle valve. The train started, but it went heavy. The engine acted weak. Glancing at the steam gauge, I saw that it indicated only three quarters of the necessary pressure.

“How’s your fire?” I asked of Lewis.

“Good!”

“Look at it and see. The steam is low.”

He obeyed me; but I saw that he put hardly a spoonful of coal into the furnace, and closed the door, while I was looking out ahead. The train went well down the grade; but when we approached Spangleport, we dragged hard.

“Fill up your furnace, Lewis,” said I, rather sharply, as I observed that the gauge had hardly gained anything.

He put another spoonful of coal into the furnace.

“Fill it up!” I added, warmly; and I began to feel that some one was trying to sell me out.

“It won’t burn if I put in too much,” growled Lewis.

“Shovel it in,” I continued, glancing into the fire box, which was nearly empty.

“More yet,” I added, as he attempted to close the door.

I kept my eye on him till I was satisfied that we should soon have all the steam we could use. When I stopped the train at Spangleport we had lost five minutes, and, what was worse, I had nearly lost my temper. Lewis Holgate appeared to be laboring for the defeat, rather than the success, of the Lightning Express train. The presence of Mr. President Tommy on the foot-board seemed to be a partial explanation of his conduct. But I was determined that the enterprise should not be a failure. I was fully resolved to make time if steam could do it. Lightning Express was on trial, and if it failed, the Centreporters, whom I was now accused of favoring, would take courage.

We stopped but a moment at Spangleport. I opened the furnace, and stirred up the fire myself. At the same time I kept one eye on Lewis, and the other on Tommy; for I wanted to catch one of them reversing a crank, or doing any other mischief. Both of them looked innocent, though I saw them exchanging significant glances. By this time I had a full head of steam, and was satisfied that I could make up the lost time, if no further obstacles were thrown in my way. The eight miles of road between Spangleport and Grass Springs was almost as straight as an arrow, and I expected to recover the lost ground on this run. Only an hour had been allowed for the passengers to reach Ucayga. If the train was behind time, those going east and west would lose their passage.

“All aboard!” shouted the conductor, as he gave me the signal to start the train.

“You are on time, Wolf, and you needn’t hurry yourself,” said Tommy, as he consulted his watch.

“There’s time enough,” I replied, determined not to be deceived by him.

I was nervous and excited, for I was conscious that both of my companions on the engine were laboring to make the Lightning Express a failure in my charge. I kept my hand on the lever of the throttle valve, almost afraid that it would be wrenched from my grasp. I let on the steam, and kept letting it on till the Ucayga--for that was the name which had been given to the locomotive, in compliment to the place which it was necessary to conciliate--seemed to fly through the air.

“Shovel in the coal, Lewis,” said I to my unwilling fireman, while we were rushing on at this furious rate.

“I think there is enough coal in the furnace,” replied he, opening the door.

“I don’t think so. Shovel it in!”

He put in about half a shovel full, and did it so doggedly that I was fully convinced he was laboring to defeat the experiment. I spoke to him very sharply. I threatened to stop the train, and send for Major Toppleton.

“I am the president of this road. If you have any complaints to make, you will make them to me,” interposed Tommy, who was holding on to the cab with both hands.

“Will you tell the fireman, then, to do his duty?”

“He is doing it.”

“Will you tell him to put in more coal?”

“Fill it up, Lewis,” added Tommy, who seemed to be conscious that there was a point beyond which even he could not go.

My rascally assistant then attempted to choke the fires by overloading the furnace; but I watched him, and succeeded in preventing him from doing the mischief he intended. I continued to increase the speed of the Ucayga until, I think, we were going at the rate of forty miles an hour. Tommy’s hair stood on end, and so did my own, for that matter; but I was desperate. I blew a long whistle as we approached Grass Springs. When I shut off the steam I looked at my watch. We had made the eight miles in twelve minutes, and the train was on time when we went into the Springs. I was satisfied then.

The moment the engine stopped, Tommy jumped off. He did not say anything, but I was convinced that he did not like riding on the locomotive, going at lightning-express rates. I was glad to get rid of him. I need not say that the events of the morning made me very uncomfortable. I had seen but little of Tommy since the events on the Horse Shoe; but I was conscious that he was nursing his wrath against me. Long before this time he would have driven me out of Middleport if he had not been so unpopular himself among the boys. My friend Dick Skotchley--for as such I was proud to regard him--had fought my battle for me among the students. Tommy was so conceited and overbearing that all the fellows hated him; and they were ripe for a mutiny against him in his capacity as president of the road, as well as in that of major of the battalion. More than this, Tommy’s father was still my friend, though he feared his son. Without egotism I may say that I was popular in Middleport. If I had not been, I should have been kicked out, like a dog, by my imperious little master.

“How are you, Wolf?” shouted Tom Walton, as I was about to start the train.

“Jump on, Tom,” I replied, as the conductor gave the word to go ahead.

My friend leaped into the cab, and I let on the steam. He told me he was spending a few days with his aunt at the Springs, and that he was looking for something to do. He was an active, industrious, quick-witted fellow, who never needed to be told twice how to do the same thing. Though he knew nothing about an engine, he had the ability to learn, and it immediately occurred to me that he would make a first-rate fireman, for it was evident that Lewis Holgate and myself could not much longer stand together on the same foot-board.

“This is bully--isn’t it, Wolf?” said Tom, as the engine attained her highest speed, though, as there were now occasional curves, I was obliged to ease her a little at times.

“Do you like it?” I inquired.

“First rate. It is almost as good as the Grace--not quite,” replied he, with proper enthusiasm. “Is this the Lightning Express folks talk so much about?”

“This is the Lightning Express. We have come through in a hurry this time. Five minutes’ delay would ruin the Lake Shore Railroad, and cause more crowing over at Centreport than ten thousand roosters could do in a year. But we are on time.”

“I’m glad you are,” laughed Tom. “I expect the train will always be on time while you run it.”

“If nothing happens, I shall put my passengers down in Ucayga at the time promised.”

“I hope nothing will happen, then.”

But at that very instant, before he had finished the remark, I saw, as we shot round a curve, a little child at play between the two rails. A woman was running towards it in frantic haste. My blood froze with horror. At first I felt like fainting; but I closed the valve and whistled to put on the brakes.

“Jam down that brake, Lewis!” I gasped to the fireman, indicating the one on the tender.

Tom Walton did not say anything, but passing through the window in the cab, he made his way to the cow-catcher. I grasped the reversing levers, and I think all the passengers must have been thrown off their seats when I checked the train. But it was still doubtful whether I could stop in season to save the child, and my heart was in my mouth.