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The oiler arose, and with one eye on the engine-room door they crept up under the edge of the car, and on toward the rear of the train. They reached the little track-car, and cautiously lifted it onto the rails. "Better push it a ways," the oiler advised in a low voice. "They might hear the rumble, with our weight on it." Gently they set the velocipede in motion.
That morning, before Davy had come from the lamp, there was a knocking on the outer door, and a pushing as well. Janet, coming down the stairs with the empty tray, saw the door open, and in the light of the gray, still morn, for the storm was past, she recognized Mark in a yellow oiler with a sou'wester nearly hiding his wet and ashen face. "You found her?" The words broke from Janet like a sob.
"A thousand! Nonsense " "Two thousand, then." "What do you mean " "Just this!" cried the oiler, and simultaneously there was a rush of feet and a sound of blows. Exultingly Alex was scrambling forth to go to the oiler's assistance, when just above him was a crash of falling bodies, and a figure bounded over the side of the car and rolled sprawling down the embankment.
List of the killed: Worth Bagley, ensign; John Daniels, first- class fireman; John Tunnel, cabin cook; John Varveres, oiler. The wounded: J. B. Bernadou, lieutenant, commanding the Winslow; R. E. Cox, gunner's mate; D. McKeowan, quartermaster; J. Patterson, fireman; F. Gray.
It was the plucky oiler, and Alex shrank back in horror as the man came to a stop flat on his back, and lay immovable, blood trickling from a wound over his eyes. Overhead was the sound of someone getting to their feet. "He nearly got you," said a voice. "Nearly. But I guess I 'got him' one better." "Is he safe for awhile, do you think?"
Their operation and navigation, according to some claims, require a veritable combination of mechanical, electrical, and naval genius not only on the part of the officers, but even on that of the simplest oiler while others make it appear as if a submarine was at least as simple to handle as a small motor boat. The truth concerning all these matters lies somewhere between these various extremes.
It did not seem right, despite the obvious necessity of heading for the junction without a moment's delay. As he hesitated, the eyes of the prostrate man flickered, and opened. Alex dodged back, lest the oiler should betray his presence to the men on the car. As he dropped down there came the recollection that there were two seats on the velocipede.
I am a man of an assured position, but before they gave me a railway-line I was for years in harness; I have been a practical mechanic. For two years I worked in Belgium as an oiler. You can judge for yourself, my dear fellow, what kind of work can I offer you?" "Of course that is so . . ." I muttered in extreme confusion, unable to face his clear, guileless eyes.
Try as they would, Alex and the oiler could get no more speed out of the low-geared machine, and with alarm Alex saw the runner once more drawing near. The second man they had outdistanced. Closer the cowman came. "Stop!" he shouted. "Stop! You may as well! I've got you!"
He rose with a roar as the Dimbula plunged, and "whack flack whack whack" went the engines, furiously, for they had little to check them. "I'm the noblest outcome of human ingenuity Mr. Buchanan says so," squealed the high-pressure cylinder. "This is simply ridiculous!" The piston went up savagely, and choked, for half the steam behind it was mixed with dirty water. "Help! Oiler! Fitter! Stoker!
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