The men swarmed into their places again, and silence fell instantly as the train started, rattling over the switches until it was clear of the yards, then settling into a regular click, click, as it swung out upon the main line. It must be confessed that this portion of the trip had little interest for Allan. The monotony of it—mile after mile of track gliding steadily away—began to wear upon him. He was no expert in track-construction, and one stretch of road-bed looked to him much like every other. So, before long, he found himself nodding, and, when he straightened up with a jerk and opened his eyes, he found Jack looking at him with a little smile. They ran in upon a siding at Moonville to make way for a passenger-train, and Jack, beckoning to Allan, climbed out upon the track. “I kin see you’re gittin’ tired,” said Jack, as they walked up and down, stretching their legs. “I ought to let you stop back there at Wadsworth. But mebbe I kin give y’ somethin’ more interestin’ fer th’ rest o’ th’ trip. How’d y’ like t’ ride in th’ engine?” Allan’s eyes sparkled. “Do you think I might?” he asked, eagerly. Jack laughed. “I thought that’d wake y’ up! Yes,—we’ve got Bill Higgins with us on this end, an’ I rather think he’ll let you ride in th’ cab. Let’s find out.” So they walked over to where the engineer was “oiling round,” in railroad parlance—going slowly about his engine with a long-spouted oil-can in one hand and a piece of waste in the other, filling the oil-cups, wiping off the bearings, feeling them to see if they were too hot, crawling under the boiler to inspect the link motion—in short, petting his engine much as one might pet a horse. “Bill,” began Jack, “this is Allan West, th’ boy thet I took on section with me.” Bill nodded, and looked at Allan with friendly eyes. “Yes,” he said, “I’ve heerd o’ him.” “Well,” continued Jack, “he’s gittin’ purty tired ridin’ back there with nothin’ t’ do but watch th’ track, an’ I thought mebbe you’d let him ride in th’ cab th’ rest o’ th’ trip.” “Why, sure!” agreed Bill, instantly. “Climb right up, sonny.” Allan needed no second invitation, but clambered up and took his place on one of the long seats which ran along either side of the cab. Right in front of him was a narrow window through which he could see the track stretching far ahead to meet the horizon. Below him was the door to the fire-box, into which the fireman was at that moment shovelling coal. At his side, mounted on the end of the boiler, was a maze of gauges, cocks, wheels, and levers, whose uses he could not even guess.