"Also in the meantime, young man," Colonel Pennington announced, "you
will pardon me if I take possession of my locomotive and flat-cars. I
observe you have finished unloading those rails."
"Help yourself, Colonel," Bryce replied with an assumption of
heartiness he was far from feeling.
"Thank you so much, Cardigan." With the greatest good nature in life,
Pennington climbed into the cab, reached for the bell-cord, and rang
the bell vigorously. Then he permitted himself a triumphant toot of
the whistle, after which he threw off the air and gently opened the
throttle. He was not a locomotive-engineer but he had ridden in the
cab of his own locomotive and felt quite confident of his ability in
a pinch.
With a creak and a bump the train started, and the Colonel ran it
slowly up until the locomotive stood on the tracks exactly where Buck
Ogilvy had been cutting in his crossing; whereupon the Colonel locked
the brakes, opened his exhaust, and blew the boiler down. And when
the last ounce of steam had escaped, he descended and smilingly
accosted Bryce Cardigan.
"That engine being my property," he announced, "I'll take the short
end of any bet you care to make, young man, that it will sit on those
tracks until your temporary franchise expires. I'd give a good deal
to see anybody not in my employ attempt to get up steam in that
boiler until I give the word.
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