Mr. Hawkins' Humorous Adventures Part 27

"I don't know how else you'd manage it, Hawkins, unless you applied for a job as fireman. Why on earth do you want to ride on a locomotive?"

"Oh, it's not a locomotive, Griggs. You don't understand. Where are you bound for?"

"Philadelphia."

"Ten:ten?" Hawkins cried eagerly.

"Ten:ten," I said.

"Then, by George, you'll be with us! You'll see the whole show!"

Hawkins caught my coat-sleeve and dragged me toward the train-gates.

"See, here," I said, detaining him, "what whole show?"

"The--oh, come and see it before we start."

"No, sir!" I said firmly. "Not until I know what it is. Are you going to play any monkey-shines with the locomotive, Hawkins? What is it?"

"But why don't you come and see for yourself?" the inventor cried impatiently. "It's--it's----"

He paused for a moment.

"Why, it's the Hawkins Alcomotive!" he added.

"And what under heavens is the Hawkins----"

"Well, you don't suppose I'm carrying scale drawings of the thing on me, do you? You don't suppose that I'm prepared to give a demonstration with magic lantern pictures on the spot? If you want to see it, come and see it. If not, you'd better get into your train. It's ten:three now."

I knew no way of better utilizing the remaining seven minutes. I walked or rather trotted--after Hawkins, through the gates, down the platform, and along by the train until we reached the locomotive--or the place where a decent, G.o.d-fearing locomotive should have been standing.

The customary huge iron horse was not in sight.

In its place stood what resembled a small flat-car. On the car I observed an affair which resembled something an enthusiastic automobilist might have conceived in a lobster salad nightmare.

It was, I presume, merely an abnormally large automobile engine; and along each side of it ran a big cylindrical tank.

"There, Griggs!" said Hawkins. "That doesn't look much like the old-fashioned, clumsy locomotive, does it?"

"I should say it didn't."

"Of course it's a little rough in finish--just a trial Alcomotive, you know--but it's going to do one thing to-day."

"And that is?"

"It's going to sound the solemn death-knell of the old steam locomotive," said Hawkins, evidently feeling some compa.s.sion for the time-honored engine.

"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 pa.s.sengers 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," t.i.ttered 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----"

"Yes, that part's all right," yelled the engineer, who had been ruthlessly detailed to a.s.sist. "But say, mister, how about the time-table?"