Of course, I was open to take any job that offered, and it so happened that I was lucky enough to get one that very morning, as fireman on the railway. On applying at the station, I was asked if I was experienced in the work, and having just left a steam bakery, and remembering my experience with the trawler’s donkey engine, I modestly said that I was, and was duly engaged and told to get on the engine of the mail train for Standerton, which was standing in the station, ready to start, and get on with the work. The driver was a Hollander who spoke very little English, which fact I looked upon as a stroke of luck, as he would be less likely to ask awkward questions. He did ask me if I had done any firing before, and I gave him the same answer as I had given to the official on the platform. He soon put me to a practical test when, looking at the gauge glass, he told me to turn on the pump to fill the boiler. I had not the slightest idea where the pump was, but, noticing that, as he gave the order he looked at a handle which was sticking out, I promptly seized that, and began working it vigorously up and down. He at once began to shout, and I found that I had made a mistake, the handle only having to be lifted to a certain point, and then a tap turned on. Seeing that the driver seemed to expect some explanation of my mistake, I remarked that the arrangement was different from those I had been used to, which was perfectly true, and this seemed to satisfy him, as he merely said that I should, no doubt, get used to it in time. But I was fated to exhibit my ignorance still further before we started. I was looking over the side of the engine, when the driver gave an order which I failed to understand, being engaged in watching the antics of an official on the platform, who was waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. He looked so funny that I burst out laughing, and the more I laughed the wilder he got. In the meantime the driver was grumbling, and came across to find out the cause of my laughter, and, seeing the man on the platform, turned on me, and asked why I had not reported the signal to start? It then suddenly dawned upon me that the order that had been given me was to watch for “Right away,” but his English was so funny that I thought he wanted me to look out for some friend he expected. As Standerton was two hundred miles on my way to Bulawayo, I had thought of leaving the train there, but my clothes had got so dirty and greasy that I thought it best to stay on a little longer, until I had saved enough money to get some more clothes and help me on my way to Johannesburg.