llow you to try it, but rather than give in to that mob out there I'll
see you through with it. Now don't you forget for one minute, that you
have twenty-three cars and a caboose trailing along behind you; that I
am on the hind end, and that I have a wife and family to support, with a
mighty small insurance on my life."

He went out, and Bennett told the cattle men to get aboard as we were
about to start. All this had been done unbeknown to any of the strikers;
but when they saw me coming down that yard with a piece of yellow tissue
paper in my hand they knew something was up, for every man of them knew
that was a train order. But where was the engineer?

I went down and climbed up in the cab of old 341, and removing my coat,
put on a jumper I had brought from the office. Engine 341, as I have
said, was run by Horace Daniels, one of the best men that ever pulled a
throttle, and his pride in her was like that of a mother in a child. She
was a big ten-wheeled Baldwin, and I have heard Daniels talk to her as
if she was a human being; in fact, he said she was the only sweetheart
he ever had. He was standing in the crowd and when he saw me put on the
jumper he came over and said:

"See here, Mr. Hebron, who is going to pull this train out?"

Mr. Hebron who was standing by the step, said, "Bates is."

Daniels grew red with rage, and said:

"Bates? Why good heavens, Mr. Hebron, Bates can't run an engine; he's
nothing but an old brass pounder, and, judging from some of the meets he
has made for me on this division, he must be a very poor one at that.
This here old girl don't know no one but me nohow; for God's sake don't
let her disgrace herself by going out with that sandy-haired chump at
the throttle."

Mr. Hebron smiled and said, "Well then, you pull her out, Daniels."

Daniels shook his head and replied, "You know I can't do that, Mr.
Hebron. It's true I'm not in sympathy with this strike one jot, but the
boys are out, and I've got to stand by them. But when this strike is
over I want old 341 back. Why, Mr. Hebron, I'd rather see a scab run her
than that old lightning jerker."

But Mr. Hebron was firm and Daniels walked slowly and sadly away. By
this time we had a good head of steam on, and Bennett gave me the signal
to pull out. I shoved the reverse lever from the centre clear over
forward, and grasping the throttle, tremblingly gave it a pull.

Longfellow says, in "The Building of the Ship:" "She starts, she mov