“But will that thing pull a train? Is that the notion?” “Notion! It's no notion--it's a simple, mathematical certainty, my dear Griggs. In that Alcomotive--it's run by vapors of alcohol, you know--we have sufficient power to pull fifteen parlor cars, twelve loaded day-coaches, twenty ordinary flat-cars, eighteen box-cars, or twenty-seven----” “'Board for Newark, Elizabeth, Trenton, Philadelphia, and all points south,” sang out the man at the gates. He was lying, but he didn't know it. “Well, I guess it's--it's time to start,” Hawkins concluded rather nervously. “Well, may the Lord have mercy on your soul, Hawkins,” I said feelingly. “Good-by. I'll be along on the next train--whenever that is.” “What! You're coming on the Alcomotive with me!” “Not on your life, Hawkins!” I cried energetically. “If this railroad wishes to trust its passengers and rolling-stock and road-bed to your alcohol machine, that's their business. But they've got a hanged sight more confidence in you than I have.” “Well, you'll have confidence enough before the day's over,” said the inventor, grabbing me with some determination. “For once, I'll get the best of your sneers. You come along!” “Let go!” I shouted. “Here,” said Hawkins to the mechanic who was warily eying the Alcomotive, “help Mr. Griggs up.” Hawkins boosted and the man grabbed me. In a second or two I stood on the car, and Hawkins clambered up beside me. Had I but regained my breath a second or two sooner--had I but collected my senses sufficiently to jump! But I was a little too bewildered by the suddenness of my elevation to act for the moment. As I stood there, gasping, I heard Hawkins say: “What's that conductor waving his hands for?” “He--he wants you to start up,” tittered the engineer. “We are two minutes late as it is.” “Oh, that's it?” said Hawkins gruffly. “He needn't get so excited about it. Why, positively, that man looks as if he was swearing! If I----” “Well, say, you better start up,” put in the engineer. “I may get blamed for this.” Hawkins opened a valve--he turned a crank--he pulled back a lever or two. The Alcomotive suddenly left the station. So, abruptly, in fact, did the train start that my last vision of the end brakeman revealed him rolling along the platform in a highly undignified fashion, while the engineer sat at my feet in amazement as I clutched the side of the car. “Well, I guess we started enough to suit him!” observed Hawkins grimly, as we whizzed past towers and banged over switches in our exit from the yard. We certainly were started. Whatever subsequent disadvantages may have developed in the Alcomotive, it possessed speed. In less time than it takes to tell it, we were whirling over the marshes, swaying from side to side, tearing a long hole in the atmosphere, I fancy; and certainly almost jarring the teeth from my head. “How's this for time?” cried the inventor. “It's all right for t-t-t-time,” I stuttered. “But----”