Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

cae ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, aad whirted it through the flues and high owt the stack where the cinders, red hot, Wrped into the air, circled back and pat- tered along the car roofs. But a third of the coal fell on the fire, the rest winnowed through the boiler and into the front end or out into the air. And try as he might, the needle dropped pound by pound. The exhaust took on a lower note, the drivers stowed down, slower and slower, till the engine almost stalled. | The engineer rested his eyes on Zeb’s face, red from exertion and streaked with perspiration. Pointing to the hose dangling from the injector, he called: “Open the gun, Old Weary. Wet your coal down. You ain't firing, You're just dusting the scenery pow.” Zeb obeyed, sprayed the load in the ten- der copiously with the het water from the injector branch pipe. Grasping his shovel, he again began to fire. Ah, this was bet- ter! The water bound the: fine coal to- gether and most of it stayed where he placed it on the fire. The hand on the steam gauge stopped its downward. crawl, stood still, then, painfully, so slow that it was almost unnoticeable, began its upward climb. But Zeb was about fatigued. His breath came in gasps, his arms felt as though they each weighed a ton, his back pained, the muscles in his legs were sore. He crawled up on the seat box, his head swam when he gulped the fresh breeze. Sparks and spaneles of light zia-zagged before his eyes, a sullen, heavy roar boomed in his ears, and “ thump-thump,” rapid and body torturing, his heart pounded like the solid throb of the air pumps before him. Jim's words came back to him. That was it. The “monkeys” had him. For a couple of minutes he Jay over the cab si], the pains of overexertion welling through him. He felt as though his cramped hands were unable to close over a shovel handle again. He turned around and looked at the gauge. It had climbed up a couple of the little white lines that circumscribed the black face. The steam was rising. The engine took on a newer note, while the exhaust quickened its tempo. And Zeb, a blind detexmination filling him, began te fire again. The words “I'll not give up. I'll not give in,” blended and mixed with the roar and pound of the engine and, methadically, doggedly, he shoveled, flogging on his tired muscles by sheer will. For he must not be beaten, he must succeed. There were many things depending on him. And in spite of his tiredness, his utter bodily fatigue, his thoughts jumped to Itchy- Witchy. A desperate will to do flamed up in him. His back straightened, his muscles stiffened and, gritting his teeth, he at- tacked the coal pile as though it were an enemy to be destroyed. He’d work and win her respect. The morning dragged along, seemingly: as slow to Zeb as the forward movement of the heavy train behind. He pulled out his watch, the watch that Jim had given him. Jim sure was a good fellow. He liked him with a strong liking, and yet through his affection for his friend of a few short days, there was a little thread of disgust. The drink, the way he squan- dered his money, the carelessness and worst of all, Sidewheeler. And Sidewheeler, reck- less and flaming, with her blue-black hair, her snapping eyes, her carmine lips, her swinging gait, Sidewheeler, the tiger lily of the depot section. Unconsciously Zeb’s thoughts fastened on: another with her shy but friendly manner, her straightforward, deep blue eyes, her healthy looking face. One was fire, hot and destroying, the other was the soft sun- shine, cheering and warming. Itchy-Witchy, wonder if she would be near the depot to- day, wonder what she would say? He was brought out of his reverie ab- Tuptly by the pop valves opening. A sweet sense of satisfaction stole over him This massive thing of steel and steam, of power, with its insatiable maw, was conquered. He had mastered the trick. Never again would an engine loom big and menacing to him, for he had fired one to the popping point, up grade, full tonnage behind and with poor coal. The local came to a hissing stop: The cars of machinery were uncoupled, shoved into a siding and a quarter of an hour COnniEaoo () SS Co