She's on her way to Kansas, via Chicago; but I'll lay my
next boilerful she'll be held there to wait consignee's convenience,
and sent back to us with wheat in the fall."
Just then the Pittsburgh Consolidation passed, at the head of a
dozen cars.
"I'm goin' home," he said proudly.
"Can't get all them twelve on to the flat. Break 'em in half,
Dutchy!" cried Poney. But it was .007 who was backed down to the
last six cars, and he nearly blew up with surprise when he found
himself pushing them on to a huge ferry-boat. He had never seen
deep water before, and shivered as the flat drew away and left his
bogies within six inches of the black, shiny tide.
After this he was hurried to the freight-house, where he saw the
yard-master, a smallish, white-faced man in shirt, trousers, and
slippers, looking down upon a sea of trucks, a mob of bawling
truckmen, and squadrons of backing, turning, sweating,
spark-striking horses.
"That's shippers' carts loadin' on to the receivin' trucks," said
the small engine, reverently. "But he don't care. He lets 'em cuss.
He's the Czar-King-Boss! He says 'Please,' and then they kneel down
an' pray. There's three or four strings o' today's freight to be
pulled before he can attend to them.
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