"Would I? I should say so!" returned Bob in delight.
Though his reply was inaudible, the expression on his face was eloquent.
"Then, take hold of my arm, so you won't get thrown out. That's the way. Steady, now. Climb on to the seat. Good. Now, put your left hand on that lever. That's what they call the throttle. When you pull it toward you, it increases the speed; to slow down, you push it away from you."
Proud, indeed, did Bob feel as his hand clasped the smooth handle of the lever. Never had he expected to run a real, snorting locomotive, dragging a long line of cars, and the realization that he was actually controlling the speed, set him a-tingle with delight.
Crowding in behind Bob, the engineer kept watch of the track, but not so closely that he could not observe and enjoy the boy's pleasure. After several minutes, Bob turned and shouted:
"Can I pull on the throttle a little?"
"Sure. Open her to the next notch. We've got plenty of steam."
But Bob found it was not so easy to get the notch as it seemed. He kept gamely at it, however, and at last succeeded.
Till they reached the yard limit of Hastings, the engineer allowed him to hold the throttle, and
