Engine 341, as I have
said, was run by Horace Daniels, one of the best men that ever pulled a
throttle, and his pride in her was like that of a mother in a child. She
was a big ten-wheeled Baldwin, and I have heard Daniels talk to her as
if she was a human being; in fact, he said she was the only sweetheart
he ever had. He was standing in the crowd and when he saw me put on the
jumper he came over and said:
"See here, Mr. Hebron, who is going to pull this train out?"
Mr. Hebron who was standing by the step, said, "Bates is."
Daniels grew red with rage, and said:
"Bates? Why good heavens, Mr. Hebron, Bates can't run an engine; he's
nothing but an old brass pounder, and, judging from some of the meets he
has made for me on this division, he must be a very poor one at that.
This here old girl don't know no one but me nohow; for God's sake don't
let her disgrace herself by going out with that sandy-haired chump at
the throttle."
Mr. Hebron smiled and said, "Well then, you pull her out, Daniels."
Daniels shook his head and replied, "You know I can't do that, Mr.
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