HOW TOM RAN THE ENGINE WITHOUT WOOD OR WATER.

BY CHARLES BARNARD.

Once upon a time a rich man built a school for boys, in which they might study surveying, engineering, mechanics, and the sciences one needs to know to be a railroad man. This man began life as a train-boy, and steadily pushed his way up to be fireman, engineer, master-mechanic, and finally President of a railroad. He often said his own chance in life would have been better if he could have gone to school when a boy, and learned from books about steam and engines, levels, inclines, and curves, before he undertook to fire a boiler or take a locomotive over the road. As it was, he got his education by hard knocks, heavy work on the engine's foot-plate, and weary toil in the machine-shop. So it happened he built the school close to the repair shops of the road of which he was President. He put good teachers and good books in the school, and then opened it, free, to the sons of the brakemen, conductors, engineers, and other men employed on the line. In the school the boys were to study the science of the railroad and locomotive, and then, if they afterward went to work on the road, they would not have such a hard time as the train-boy who became President.

Twice every year the President offered a Waltham watch as a prize to the boy in the school who should write the best composition on any subject connected with the things they had been studying, or anything in relation to engines or railroads. Tom Stayboltt, whose father was conductor on the night express, had been in the school three years, and had tried five times for the prize, and lost it every time. Tom was regarded by all the scholars as the brightest boy in the school. He stuttered in his speech, and his handwriting was as stiff as a switch-rod, yet he was always at the head of his class. You could never trip him on any knotty questions as to whether the cylinders were on top of the boilers or under the tender. He knew the name and use of every bit of metal in an engine, and it was believed by all the boys that he was a good engineer, and could take his father's train right through to the Junction, without running past a red light, or wasting steam on the down grades.

The semi-annual prize had been announced, and nearly every boy in the school was busy over his composition.

"I-i-it's no use, b-b-boys. I shall not try for the p-p-prize. I can't write, and I never can t-t-tell—tell what I know. If they would give a prize for doing something, I think I might g-g-get—get it."

Tom was a great favorite in the school, and not one of the boys laughed at this speech. They were taught manners, as well as mechanics, in that school, and the boys well knew that what Tom said was true. They might write compositions and get prizes, but when it came to doing the things, why, Tom Stayboltt would beat them all.

The day of the prize-giving drew near, and every boy save Tom was hard at work over his composition. He had tried five times, and each time the teachers had said his composition was very bad indeed, with the wrong words, awkward sentences, and punctuation that was truly awful. Now it happened that the day before the prize was to be given, a new locomotive arrived on the railroad, and stood, without wood or water, on the track of the repair-shop yard. It had been hauled up on the freight train, and had never been used on the road. After school a number of the boys went over to the yard to see the new engine, and among them was Tom Stayboltt.

It was a first-class passenger engine, built for high speed, and looking very handsome in its new paint and shining brass work. There were several men looking at the engine as the boys came up, and they gathered round to hear what might be said.

"An empty engine," remarked one of the men, "always seems to me a very helpless thing. It is so big and heavy, it is impossible to move it without steam-power, and yet it will not only move itself, but will drag many times its weight at forty miles an hour over the line."

"It is not the engine that moves," said another man. "It's the wood or coal and water—the fuel and steam. If it were not for the fire and water inside, it could never move at all."

"I can make her go without w-w-w-wood—wood or water."

This remark caused a laugh from the boys, and even the men smiled at the absurd statement. One man came over to where Tom stood, and said, "How would you do that, my boy?"

"I'd rather n-n-not—not tell."

"Why not?"

"Because I n-n-never t-t-tried—tried it."

"Oh, you mean you think you could, but you have never proved your theory by experiment."

"Y-y-yes—yes, sir."

The men and boys became wonderfully interested in this conversation, for it was clear that Tom Stayboltt knew what he was talking about.

"Do you belong to the Railroad School?"

"Y-y-yes—yes, sir."

"You mean to try for the prize, I suppose?"

"No, sir. My handwriting is as crooked as a r-r-ram's h-h-horn—ram's horn."

After that, nothing more of importance was said, and the boys, having looked over the engine to their hearts' content, went home.

The next day at ten o'clock the entire school was marched into the lecture-room of the school building to see the prize watch given by the President to the boy who had written the best composition. All the teachers were there, together with the fathers and mothers of the boys, visitors, and people connected with the railroad. This prize-giving was regarded as a great event along the line, and every man, from engine-wipers to directors, wanted to be on hand to see whose son carried off the prize. At 10.15, railroad time, the President and the Honorable Directors, with their wives and daughters, marched in and took seats on the platform, while all the boys stood up as a matter of respect to the founder of the school. It was altogether quite a grand and ceremonious affair, and was for the boys an impressive occasion. When the directors and the ladies were seated, the boys sat down. Then there was a speech from the head master, followed by one from a director, and one from the President's wife. Then it came the President's turn to give out the prizes. All the compositions, neatly tied up in red tape, were laid on the desk, and when he stood up he brushed them all one side, as if he did not care much for compositions. His speech was short and very peculiar.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and boys of the school, I have carefully read all the compositions, and while I think they are all excellent, I have decided that this time the chance to win the prize shall be open to those who did not write a composition."

This was a great surprise, and the boys wondered how this was to be done. They knew the President was a just and honorable man, and would do nothing unfair; so they accepted what he said in silence, though those who had written the compositions were, of course, somewhat disappointed.

"Yesterday," continued the President, "I heard one of the boys say he could run a locomotive engine without wood or water. If he can do it, he shall have the prize. Is the boy present?"

There was a solemn hush in the room. Every one looked about, and wondered if the audacious and foolish boy was there. Of course it could not be done, and the President had taken this means to punish him for his vain and idle boasting. As for Tom Stayboltt, he felt ready to sink through the floor. Something must be done about it, and in a moment he stood up, and said, in a clear, manly voice,

"I said so, sir; and if you will give me the engine, and Jerry Smith's Mogul, I'll do it."

The sudden appearance of little Tom Stayboltt, pale and yet calm, and the clear voice without a defect, caused a great sensation, and every one turned in wonder to look at him. Some of the ladies wanted to know what the boy meant by "Jerry Smith's Mogul," and the gentlemen with them explained that it was a heavy freight engine of the "Mogul" pattern run by Mr. J. Smith.

The President called Tom up to the platform, and for a moment or two there was a whispered conversation between Tom, the head-master of the school, and the President. Every one looked on with the greatest interest, and wondered what would happen next. Tom seemed to have convinced the two gentlemen that he knew exactly what he was talking about, for the President smiled and shook Tom by the hand, and then stood up and said to all the people:

"When I heard Master Stayboltt say yesterday afternoon he could run the engine, I resolved to give him a chance. I therefore ordered a train to be got ready, and I now invite the school and all their friends to go to the station. We will take the engine out on the line, and Master Stayboltt shall try for the prize by running the engine a mile without wood or water. The engine has never been used, except on its trial trip, and there is not a quart of water in the boiler or tank, nor a pound of coal, or so much as a match, on the tender."

This proposal was received with the greatest enthusiasm, and the entire company, ladies and gentlemen, teachers, boys, and all, marched down to the station, and took a train of cars they found all ready for them. A heavy "Mogul" engine backed up and took the train over to the repair-shop yard, where the new engine stood. Several of the directors got out and examined the engine, and declared there was no fuel in the tender nor a drop of water in the boiler. The train was backed up to the front of the engine, and it was coupled on. Every one got on board, and the train hauled out of the yard, and took the main line, with the empty engine trailing behind. As for Master Stayboltt, they put him on the engine, and made him ride there all alone.

Tom didn't care; in fact, this was just what he wanted. The train ran at a good speed for about ten miles into the country. Then it stopped, and everybody hurried out to see the performance—or the failure. The road just here was perfectly level, and there was a switch and siding. The train was uncoupled from the engine, and run into the siding, out of the way, and flag-men were sent up and down the line to stop all trains that might interfere with the show. The people gathered round the cold and silent engine, standing in a crowd on the grass by the line. Tom still sat in the engine, and when everything was ready, the President said that Master Stayboltt might now try for the prize.

The idea of that boy making an engine go a mile! It was very silly in him, and no doubt he would now be properly punished for his vain boasting.

"Are you ready, sir?"

"Y-y-yes—yes, sir."

"Then go ahead."

The people stood looking on, and quite ready to laugh at the poor boy's failure. Ah! she moves. The big wheels turn slowly, and the cold and silent engine rolled slowly backward. For an instant there was a laugh. She was going the wrong way. She moved faster and faster, and the laugh died away. Ah! she's slowing up. She has stopped. It's a failure. No. Tom could be seen turning the reversing bar. The engine gave one loud whistle, and started ahead. Faster and faster! On it came, and rushed past all the people, at twenty miles an hour. How the people cheered and cheered! It was wonderful. Tom was looking straight ahead, like a good engineer. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the boys shouted until they were hoarse. Tom Stayboltt had won the prize.

The engine ran on about half a mile, stopped, and then came slowly back, and stopped just before the President's pretty daughters. Tom came to the window, and took off his hat and bowed politely to the ladies.

"How much pressure have you, Master Engineer?" said the President.

"T-t-twenty—twenty pounds, sir."

Then the school gave three cheers for Tom, and three more for the President, for every one said it was far better to do something than to write the best composition ever seen. Of course every one wished to know just how it was done, and to make it all clear, the President mounted a pile of sleepers, and told them the whole story.

"You all know that in a steam-engine is a boiler and a furnace, or fire-box. Water is put in the boiler, and a fire is made in the furnace precisely as in a tea-kettle on a stove. The water boils in the tea-kettle, and we see the steam escape. In the engine the steam is locked in, and can not escape, and very soon it becomes crowded, and if still kept locked in, it will burst the boiler. Before this can happen, the engineer opens a valve, and permits the steam to enter two oblong iron boxes, called the cylinders. Here it meets a piece of metal, called the piston, that fits the inside of the cylinder pretty closely. It can not get past, and so it pushes the piston away to the other end of the cylinder. As soon as this happens, the valves close of their own accord, and the steam escapes into the open air with a loud puff. Then the steam enters the other end of the cylinder, and drives the piston back again. In this manner the steam pushes the piston to and fro as it tries to escape from the boiler.

"Now there is a rod fastened to the piston, and passing through the end of the cylinder. Each cylinder has one, and these are connected by means of other rods with the great wheels of the locomotive. You now see that the piston, driven forward and backward, moves the wheels, and thus it is the escaping steam moves the engine. These rods you can see outside the engine; the piston and valves are inside, out of sight.

"Now the air is elastic, like steam, and it may be used in any engine in place of steam. If air is pumped into a tight box like a boiler, it may be locked up, or compressed, and if we were to go on pumping, we might burst the boiler with compressed air. Master Stayboltt knew all this, and he also knew that when an empty engine is dragged along the rails by another engine, as happened on our ride out here, the wheels will turn round, and these move the rods and the pistons, and each cylinder works like a pump. Instead of letting steam out, it pushes air back into the boiler, and very soon the boiler is full of elastic compressed air struggling to get out. Master Stayboltt, as soon as the train stopped, opened the valves, and the air rushed out the way it went in, making the pistons move, and the wheels turn round. Of course the air soon ran out, and the engine stopped. This made no difference to us, for Master Stayboltt clearly showed that he had learned his lessons well, and knew how to apply them."

Then the President's youngest daughter climbed up into the engine, and gave Tom the prize watch. The boys took him on their shoulders in triumph to the President's car, every one got on board, the flag-men were called in, and the entire party went gayly home with the empty engine trailing behind.