(xx) Engine Cab Ride to Chicago

Well sir, it's late afternoon as we enter the small house halfway up in the next block, and here in the living room we find all our friends assembled. Big can say it or standing beside the library table, discussing a matter which is apparently sharp or controversial.

Young Rush lounges in the Davenport listening with interest, and at the moment the master of the menage is saying, Holy smokes, say, the thing is ridiculous. Once you say that, you'll save all that train fair, you'll ride to Chicago free and you'll have oceans of fun.

Where does a dog on fun come in? Why, if I've heard you once, I've heard you a thousand times remarked to Mr. Donah, who you're just dying to ride in the camp of a locomotive.

Surely, but I'm going to Chicago and business. Mr. Buller is meeting me at the station, and so is Ralph K. Quench, a big shot kitchener executive from New York. How will I look climb down off the tender, black, dirty, and worn out?

They'll think I stole it right. Well, Mr. Donner, when I'm talking about that, I'd have to stand up all the way. There's only two seats in the locomotive, one for the firemen and one for the engineer.

Chicago's 140 miles away. Think I understand on my feet for 140 miles? Might be a wreck. Well, Mr. Donner, when I'm talking about it, it's against the rules for Donner. He'll let me ride in the locomotive.

He's sticking his neck out. Like great guns, his library loses his job. No, I don't think so. He's taken all kinds of precautions. You forget me in for this nonsense to begin with. Now listen, Dick, don't you jump down my collar.