.007
my left leadin' driver, and, oh, Boilers! that mounted the rail. I heard my flanges zippin' along the ties, an' the next I knew I was playin' 'Sally, Sally Waters' in the corn, my tender shuckin' coal through my cab, an' old man Evans lyin' still an' bleedin' in front o' me. Shook? There ain't a stay or a bolt or a rivet in me that ain't sprung to glory somewhere,"
"Umm!" said .007. "What d' you reckon you weigh?"
"Without these lumps o' dirt I'm all of a hundred thousand pound."
"And the shote?"
"Eighty. Call him a hundred pound at the outside. He 's worth about four 'n' a half dollars. Ain't it awful? Ain't it enough to give you nervous prostration? Ain't it paralysin'? Why, I come just around that curve—" and the Mogul told the tale again, for he was very badly shaken.
"Well, it 's all in the day's run, I guess," said .007, soothingly; "an'—an' a corn-field 's pretty soft fallin'."
"If it had bin a sixty-foot bridge, an' I could ha' slid off into deep water an' blown up an' killed both men, same as others have done, I would n't ha' cared; but to be ditched by a shote—an' you to help me out—in a corn-field—an' an old hayseed in his nightgown cussin' me like as if I was a sick truck-horse! ... Oh, it's awful! Don't call me Mogul! I'm a sewin'-machine. they 'll guy my sand-box off in the yard."
And .007, his hot-box cooled and his experience vastly enlarged, hauled the Mogul freight slowly to the roundhouse.
"Hello, old man! Bin out all night, hain't ye?"
[263]
