I asked Buchanan what were the principal qualifications for a first-class engineer, and what was the training necessary to become one. "To begin with," he said, "a man must be a first-class fireman, which is no easy matter. He must know just how much coal to put on the fire and when to put it on, so as to keep the steam at full pressure without burning too much fuel. The great secret of good firing is to put coal on often and a little at a time. You noticed Al did that on our run up. When a fireman has shown himself worthy of it, he is given a chance to drive an engine for switching work or on a freight train. The first years of his life as an engineer are very hard, for he has to run at all sorts of hours, day and night, winter and summer, and on the meanest kinds of trains. If this does not kill him he finally becomes engineer on an express and has a better time of it, but a good many of the boys prefer to remain firemen all their lives rather than stand such hardships. My man Al has tried driving an engine twice, and come back to me both times. You can be pretty sure that a man who gets to be an engineer on one of the fine trains to-day has earned his position. He must know his engine like a book, backwards and forwards, must know how to manage her when she is sick and well, and what to do if an eccentric breaks or a piston gets leaking or a valve-spindle is bent. He must know how to work the injector so as to keep water enough in the boiler without wasting any by the steam blowing off. He must be able to save power by working the steam expansively and yet keeping up his speed; he must know every inch of the road, the grades, bridges, switches, curves, and tunnels, and all the trains he has to pass or which may pass him. He must be able to control his train and engine at full speed, must understand the effect of the weather on the rails, must know how to use the air-brakes and the reversing-lever, and when not to use them." I listened and marvelled. "What would you do in a collision?" I asked. The engineer pushed back the little black skullcap from his iron-gray hair and said, in the low tone which is usual with him: "It is pretty hard to say what a man should do when he hears the whistle of danger ahead or sees that a crash is coming. Even the best of us are liable to get confused at such a moment. What would you do if you woke up in the night and found a burglar holding a pistol at your head? There are no rules for such cases. What I would not do, though, is to reverse my engine, although many engineers are liable to lose their heads at a critical moment and make that mistake. It is a curious thing that reversing your engine suddenly when going at high speed makes the train go faster instead of slower. The reason is that the drivers slip and the locomotive shoots ahead as if she were on skates. The only thing to do is to put on the air-brakes and pray hard."