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He had never felt quite so limp in his life before. "Curious, ain't it?" said Poney, puffing, on the next track. "You an' me, if we got that man under our bumpers, we'd work him into red waste an' not know what we'd done; but-up there with the steam hummin' in his boiler that awful quiet way..." "I know," said.007. "Makes me feel as if I'd dropped my Fire an' was getting cold.
"'Tisn't so easy switching with a straight-backed tender," said his little friend of the round-house, bustling by at a trot. "But you're comin' on pretty fair. 'Ever seen a flyin' switch? No? Then watch me." Poney was in charge of a dozen heavy flat-cars. Suddenly he shot away from them with a sharp "Whutt!"
"'I rayther think he has, said the old gentleman, half testily. "'And can trot a bit, too. "'Twelve Irish miles in fifty minutes, with my weight. Here he looked down at a paunch like a sugar hosghead. "'Maybe he's not bad across a country, said I, rather to humour the old fellow, who, I saw, was proud of his poney.
Before I mounted my poney he seriously gave me his blessing and his parting advice, which was delivered in a very emphatic manner, my mother anxiously listening, while a tear glistened in her eye.
We can just remember seeing this devout lady on one of these pilgrimages. She usually rode from her mansion in the neighbourhood to the churchyard, on a favourite poney, and wore a large, flapping, drab beaver hat, and a woollen habit, nearly trailing on the ground.
No; no one's hurt, but both tracks are blocked. Lucky the wreckin'-car an' derrick are this end of the yard. Crew 'll be along in a minute. Hurry! You've the track." "Well, I could jest kick my little sawed-off self," said Poney, as .007 was backed, with a bang, on to a grim and grimy car like a caboose, but full of tools a flatcar and a derrick behind it.
My father having got a poney ready for the old gentleman to ride with us, and a fresh horse saddled for me, we soon reached Netheravon, where we learned of the Rev. Mr.
Bales, crates, boxes, jars, carboys, frails, cases, and packages flew into them from the freight-house as though the cars had been magnets and they iron filings. "Ki-yah!" shrieked little Poney. "Ain't it great?" A purple-faced truckman shouldered his way to the yard-master, and shook his fist under his nose. The yard-master never looked up from his bundle of freight receipts.
For the moment he fancied that he would jerk bodily from off his underpinning. "That must be the emergency-stop that Poney guyed me about," he gasped, as soon as he could think. "Hot-box-emergency-stop. They both hurt; but now I can talk back in the round-house." He was halted, all hissing hot, a few feet in the rear of what doctors would call a compound-comminuted car.
I mounted my poney, rode back with him, and soon returned again with the medicine he had prescribed; but my mother's disorder baffled all their skill and attention.
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