As they approached the river's edge, the men of the mission pressed forward to the side of Mr. Day, whom they called Daddy. They were very proud of their importance, but they were half afraid. Daddy was already fastening the ropes to the boat in which the engine rested. "Now, boys, pull her up!" he called. There was giggling and laughing as a hundred hands laid hold on the ropes. There was also a great deal of boasting, such as boys do in our country. "Me strong man!" "Me pull powerful!" "Dis ting nosing! Me pull whole house." "Me pull whole tree down!" "Ready, all together!" called Daddy. In a few minutes the boat was high up on the sand beside a strong tripod of poles and the mission wagon which had been placed there. With still louder shouts the heavy box was swung into the wagon. There was laughter and more boasting. "Me pull strongest of all!" But now came the tug-of-war. The wagon sank deep into the soft soil and when it would not move, each black man let go the rope and began to shout reproaches at his mate. "You no work!" "You weak man!" "You little baby!" Daddy was for a moment in despair. Then his ever-ready smile returned, and he said to a bystander, "Get a drum." The drummer began to beat, the crowd began to sing, the boys and girls began to dance, and the wagon moved. The rope was so long that the women and children could take hold. In a little while the engine had come to the end of its long journey from York, Pennsylvania, to Muhlenberg Mission, Africa. But it was not yet set up, and Mr. Day was puzzled. He stood earnestly reading the directions, and then he began to give orders. He was so pressed upon by the crowd that he had to shout to them to stand back. A smart mission boy read the number on the engine. "Him say, 'No two four one seven.' That him name." They were all so busy with their own thoughts that they did not see that the last section of the engine was in place and that Daddy had filled the boiler with water. Suddenly a black boy began to yell. "Daddy burn him engine up! Daddy burn him engine up!" Daddy smiled again and piled under the boiler the splintered wood from the crate. The fire grew hotter and hotter, the people forgot their fear and pressed closer and closer. Daddy was elated; for years he had prayed for this engine, and for months he had known that it was coming and had wondered whether he would be able to set it up and run it. Now here it was, put together, and with the steam pressure mounting higher and higher. He could not express his joy, but he had something at hand which could. He supposed that this fine engine had a fine whistle and he opened the valve and set it off.