Golden Days for Boys and Girls | Page 6

regulate the draughts.
The engine--or engines, for there were two of the same power whose pistons turned the same great fly-wheel--glistened a welcome to Larry, and it seemed to him that they looked brighter even than usual upon this clear September morning.
He began wiping them off with a handful of cotton waste, adding, if possible, to the polished brightness of the powerful arms and cylinders; but, before he had finished the work, a gruff voice caused him to look up.
"You, is it?" the voice questioned.
The speaker was a young man of twenty-three, who was employed in the works. Larry had seen him a great many times, for he was always loitering about in the boiler and engine rooms when his father was away.
This was contrary to rules, yet Larry, being so much younger, disliked to order the young man out. But as he saw him standing in the doorway, then it occurred to him that, if his father was to be absent several days, it might be better to put a stop to intrusion at once.
"Yes, I'm on duty," Larry answered, resuming his work.
Steve Croly coolly ascended the two or three steps to the floor of the engine-room, and, picking up a piece of waste, began to rub the polished cylinder-head which was nearest.
Larry saw that the rag which Croly was using was making streaks on the polished surface.
"See what you're doing, Steve!" he cried, pointing at the oily smutch.
"Why don't you have some clean waste round here, then?" Croly retorted. "When I used to run an engine, I had something to clean it with, instead of using waste after it was soaked full of oil."
"You're not running this engine," said Larry, quietly.
His heart was heating fast; so he was silent a moment before he spoke again, as he did not wish to speak in an angry tone.
"I think I could manage it about as well as any boy of your age," said Croly. "It's mighty foolish to trust such an engine as this to a boy. I heard some of the men talking about it with the super the last time your old man was off, and I fancy he don't like it very well."
"Perhaps you heard them say something about giving you the job," Larry responded, with a faint smile.
"It would look more sensible if they did," replied Croly, who had too much self-conceit to see the point of a joke that was aimed at him.
"Still," Larry answered, with more dignity, "since I am allowed to run the engine, I shall have to ask you to obey the rules against coming in here, after this."
"You mean that I can't come in to see the engine?"
"Not without leave. My father wouldn't let you, and you know it. Hereafter I wish you to keep out when I'm in charge."
Steve Croly's cheeks flushed with anger.
At that moment the hoarse roar of the whistle shook the air, telling everybody in the busy town that it was time to go to work.
It was not yet time to start the engine, but Croly sprang to the valve-gear to let on the steam.
CHAPTER II.
The One-Eyed Fireman.
Larry divined the young man's purpose, and he needed no better evidence that Steve Croly knew very little about an engine than this thoughtless act.
The youth reached the valve-gear at the same time, and the hands of both grasped the wheel.
"What are you going to do?" cried Larry, holding on with all his strength, for the other was trying to turn the wheel.
"I'm going to start the engine. Didn't you hear the whistle? What are you waiting for?" snapped Croly.
"That was the quarter-whistle; it isn't time to start up yet. And if it was, you would blow out a couple of cylinder-heads for me by letting on the steam in that style!"
Larry's face was pale, partly because he thought that the other would have succeeded in doing the mischief in spite of him. But the determined face of the boy, coupled with his words, made Croly pause, although he still allowed his hand to rest on the valve-gear of the great engine.
"You think I don't know enough to start this machine, I suppose," he said.
"I think if you did know, you wouldn't try to blow out the cylinder-heads to start with," Larry rejoined.
"You're trying to bluff me now, but you ain't quite old enough to do it. Just wait till the five-minute whistle blows, and see if I can't start the machine. I know enough to know that if you let the steam into the cylinder, she's got to start."
"Something would start, that's certain," said Larry, drily. "But," he continued, "I don't think you will let the steam on this time. Now, let go!"
"You're a pretty heavy man to put in as boss of this plant," replied Steve.
He let go of