Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

THE CALL OF SHINING STEEL. that he would study them again. They had lain untouched for two years, accumulating a layer of dust, until to-night when Zeb opened one. Spreading it out on the table, he studied the colored illustrations. Here was an engine, turn a page and the interior opened up, another and deeper down into its vitals the engravings depicted ‘the in- tricate mechanisms. Fascinated, Zeb began to read. Fortu- nately the book was the first of the series, and he read of the small beginnings of steam transportation two hundred years before. Eagerly he followed the engross- ing story of the development of rail trans- portation from the days of “ Puffing Bil- ly,” and a four miles per hour speed, to the high-wheeled flyers on the Twentieth Century that swiftly led its string of heavy vestibuled, all-steel coaches a thou- sand miles across a half dozen States in but little more than a day. Here was history far more enthrallmg than any he had: ever read. He settled himself deeper in his chair and struggled with Trevithick in his endeavor to work high pressure steam, fought against public opinion with Stevenson as he won the prize with his “ Rocket,” and finally rode to fame with Baldwin, who as founder of the mighty works that bear his name, is known wherever ringing bell or sounding whistle proclaims a locomotive. The night hours flew past unnoticed while Zeb read on, buried beyond notice of time in the books that to Jim were volumes of wearisome words. Page after page he turned. Here was the story of the slow advance men had made from the days of oxwain and creaking cart. Zeb’s mind was like a fallow field, eager for knowledge. He studied the ‘sectional views of the en- gines, traced the steam from boiler through throttle valve, down the feed pipes into the cylinders. The flow of the gases hot from the burning coal circling up, sweeping through the flues and out the stack became as plain to him as was the course of the creek that ran down the foot of the corn- . field at his home. Midnight came, yet.Zeb did not hear the roundhouse whistle blatantly advertise the hour to the still, starlit night. One o’clock &23 and he read on. Now he knew what draft sheets and nozzles, what flues and mud rings were. What an ordinary man takes a month to learn, Zeb had assimilated in a night—the mechanical change from water into power, through the medium of expand- Ing steam. Far better than many a man who had spent years on the railroad, he understood the strange alchemy of burning coal and rushing steam that moves the goods and passengers of our modern civili- zation. Zeb had discovered that he had a natural aptitude for mechanics, for the diagrams and descriptions were plain to him. He was so absorbed in them that he hardly heard the door open. It took Jim’s voice to arouse him. ‘Heyho, kid! Ain’t you in bed yet?” Zeb turned around. Jim stood swaying in the middle of the room, a foolish grin on his face. His hat was gone, his suit mud splattered and tom. One of his eyes was blackened and there were cuts and bruises in a half dozen places on his face. Zeb jumped up alarmed. ‘“ What—” he began. “ All right, old timer. Everything’s all tight. Had a lovely time, a sweet time. We wrecked the Greek’s chop joint, turned over a machine and—and got lit up for fair.” Tumbling across the bed, Jim repeated: “Ven, a lovely time. Lit up for fair.” In a few minutes he was asleep, mum- bling: ‘‘ Mished the time of your life.” Zeb pulled off Jim's shoes and tora clothes and rolled him under the covers. Then he opened the window wide, for the stench of whisky was gagging him. He sat up, drowsily studying for a while longer then, not able to stay awake, he turned in beside Jim who, mouth agape, was sleep- ing the sleep of the drugged. It seemed to Zeb that he had scarcely fallen asleep when he felt some one shak- ing him roughly. He looked up into a lantern that cast its yellow glare into his blinking eyes. He heard a voice sounding far of in his drowsy ears. | “Jim, you're. called for the local. Weke up and sign the book!” EO 1A@OO () SS Co