The winter fog had rolled in from the seas on the Island of Sodor, and whilst the island remained shrouded in mystery, it also shrouded danger from many locomotives, and this of course, was risky for the engine's wellbeing, the safety of the crew and passengers, and the economy of the railway, particularly along the line in Misty Valley, where fog is especially bad, and with the addition of rocks falling off the cliffs above.
So in order to prevent accidents occurring, an old man named Cyril fulfils his job as fog man; he sets out detonators along the line so that engines were warned of any dangers that lay ahead. He loved his job, but he was getting old, and had some back pain after stooping and fiddling with the detonators to ensure that they were secure and active.
So one night, the Fat Controller had a delivery sent up to the sheds. It was an ugly thing, with three red horns sticking out. It was large and bulky, not to mention unusual to the engines.
"This is a foghorn." He announced. "It warns engines when there is fog ahead, like this."
He pulled a lever, and the yard was treated to the loudest, most awful noise that the engines ever heard, and it was heard for miles around.
By the time it was switched off, the engines were convinced that a part of their hearing had been claimed by the noise.
"That was loud!" Percy exclaimed.
"Too loud, if you ask me!" grumbled James and the other engines, excluding Thomas and Edward, descended into conversation on this new matter faster than vultures on a new meal.
"Please, sir -what will happen to Cyril?" Thomas inquired nervously.
"He will be retired," the Fat Controller announced, solemnly. "He deserves some much needed rest."
"Poor Cyril," Thomas whispered in dismay, thinking about his friend's fate. "He's been scrapped!"
As much as Edward wanted to correct his dear friend, he admitted that somehow, in a strange sense, it did fit the situation. They knew Cyril had no remaining family, and he counted the engines as his friends. He was a kind and friendly soul, yet he never seemed keen to venture far from his cottage in Misty Valley.
...
The next day, Percy was taking some coal along the line. As he approached Misty Valley, he heard the fog horn blare out the same confounded noise it had blared out the night before.
"It's worse than Gordon's bragging!" Percy moaned. "And it doesn't make my axels tingle!"
"Still, a warning is a warning." his driver replied, and he slowed his engine down so that Percy could pass safely through the fog.
However, the fog horn had been awfully loud, and the hill, almost as if in a fit of rage, dropped some rocks down along the track. Large rock lay on the line, blocking the way. And to make matters worse, the fog horn lay crushed and twisted beyond repair!
Not long after this, at a very near distance, Thomas puffed along the line with some cattle trucks, about to collect sheep from Farmer McColl's farm. He couldn't hear the foghorn, so his crew assumed that maybe the fog might be alright. But they were unaware of the danger ahead, and by the time Thomas did find out, he was off the rails, as were the last two of his trucks.
Cinders and ashes! Thomas cried in alarm. What happened to the fog horn?
"I don't know," said his driver looking at the fireman for any possible injuries. "But at least no one got seriously hurt."
"What about Toby-why, he'll be here any minute!" The fireman pointed out.
"We have to warn him!" Thomas said. But his whistle became jarred out of place by the accident, and he couldn't blow it. Plus, he would have risked making things worse.
"Thomas!" A familiar voice called out to him. "Are you alright?"
"It's Cyril!" Thomas exclaimed. "Cyril, do you have any detonators? We have to warn Toby about the rock fall!"
"Yes, and I'll ensure that he stops before anything else happens the old fog man declared bravely, and ran back down the line.
Thomas hoped that he made it.
...
Meanwhile, Toby was on his way down the line with Henrietta, happily humming a tune when he was jolted out of his daydream by a loud bang.
"A detonator-I better slow down!" He gasped.
So his driver slowed him down by applying his brakes.
The timing could not have been any better, for when Toby came to a standstill, he saw his blue friend derailed ahead of him- thankfully unhurt. So he rang his bell.
From the front, Thomas smiled in pure, heartfelt relief- their friend Cyril had saved the day.
...
"I am sorry about the foghorn." The Fat Controller said to Thomas and Cyril later on, once he arrived on Percy, who had taken the breakdown crane with him to help his best friend out of the rubble.
"That's alright, sir." Cyril replied earnestly.
"Cyril saved Toby sir!" Thomas told him breathlessly.
"I am aware of that. Now Cyril, for your determination and bravery, I would like to offer you your post back. What do you say?"
"I accept sir!" The old man grinned. "And don't worry about my back, Sir Topham- I found an excellent chiropractor!"
Everyone laughed.
It was here that the Fat Controller learned an important lesson, something that reminded him of his own values. New modern inventions were all very well, but sometimes, it took older, traditional methods to save the day.