Chapter 4

Diesel 10 walked slowly towards the small group of former engines and wagons that were standing on the track in front of the fuel pumps, after all, it wouldn't do for the one whom would lead them all to a better future to look as though he was in a rush, no, it was the silly little steamies that did all the rushing about. Make them wait, he thought. Let them know how important I am. He, the biggest diesel on Sodor, most certainly didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea. Of the people waiting for him, apart from his two minions, the others may have looked unfamiliar but, knowing that his transformation that morning had left enough hints as to his identity, he could certainly hazard a guess as to whom the others were. The black-suited man with matching black hair and a greasy complexion to his rather sour-looking, grey face could only be the shunter, Diesel. Similarly, the green-suited man with white hair had to be BoCo. TWO! THAT'S ALL THAT PAIR OF IDIOTS COULD FIND? he angrily thought. And where's that lazy Daisy and that Goody-Goody-six-wheels Mavis that was here last night? I need more than this for my plans to work! Looking around the marshalling yards for sign of any former engines that his two bungling minions may have overlooked, he saw that the gang of youngsters were still playing about on the coal heaps.

"SPLODGE!" he called out. "Go and get those... kids over here, NOW!"

"Right away, Boss!" they said together, and quickly scampered away to carry out their order.

"What do you want us here for?" BoCo asked him. "Do you know what's happened to us?"

Diesel kept silent, merely watching his taller colleague climb the step ladder next to the fuel tank.

"Once that lot are over here then I'll tell you what's happening," replied Diesel 10.

They waited two minutes until Splatter and Dodge and the gang of youngsters had joined them and formed a semi-circle around where Diesel 10 was looking down to them from the steps.

"I have thought long and hard about this, and we are here... to protect ourselves," he announced. "It's pretty obvious that what's happened to all of you, er, all of us, may well have happened all over the island, and has happened to those stinky steamies as well. Now, we've all had trouble from those little pests in the past, and I want to make sure that they're not going to trouble us again in the future, especially now that, er, now that things have changed. This new, er, situation we are in means that everyone connected with Sodor Railway is going to be looking for a way to turn things back to how they were. It's pretty clear that something has happened to the magic of the railway, and the only one that has anything to do with all of that is that smug little stinker, Lady. She's obv-"

"I don't know why you call her names like that," interrupted BoCo. "I've met her once and she seemed to be quite nice and charming!"

"NICE AND CHARMING!" roared Diesel 10. "It's the stinky steamies being 'nice and charming' that stops them getting told off by Sir Topham whenever they've played a trick on one of us or done something sneaky that gets one of us into trouble!"

Diesel 10 glared down at BoCo. "Don't you remember when you first came to the island and you quite accidentally took the china clay trucks that those trickster twins, Bill and Ben, were supposed to take. It was them playing that horrible trick on you that made you think you were hallucinating and seeing things, and then they laughed at you. And then there's that green monster, Duck. He distracted you with his nattering long enough for that red blister, James, to insult you. What did he call you, now? Ah, yes, he called you a "buzzbox" if I'm not mistaken! Don't you see that they plan all these things together? We don't have time for petty little things such as scheming to play tricks on the other engines, do we? No, and I'll tell you why. It's because we want to get on with our work and please Sir Topham Hatt by showing him how useful we are."

Boco's face reddened as he recalled the occasions that Diesel 10 had mentioned. He'd seriously thought at the time when Bill and Ben were tricking him that he was going mad, and he started feeling a rage forming inside him, only this time, it was a rage unlike anything he'd felt before as its intensity was astounding. When he'd been an engine and things had gone wrong for him, the only emotions he'd felt were a basic form of satisfaction and frustration compared to what he was feeling right now, and the strength of his feelings when he was an engine only changed when his appointed tasks either succeeded or failed. His prime objective was to work, work until he fulfilled his role, the role of an engine that was supposed to pull coaches and wagons to their destinations, just like all the other engines on the island. The fact that the two small yellow pests had made him feel so confused really embarrassed him and, right now, he wanted nothing more than to make them suffer in some way.

"You're right," snarled Diesel. "They're nothing but trouble-makers!"

This is going to be easy, thought Diesel 10. Now, let's stir things up a bit more!

"Diesel, my trusty friend," he said. "Think back to when you came here. Do you remember that yet again it was that green monstrosity that caused trouble for a diesel by disobeying his order and ignoring you, thus ensuring that you didn't know what you had to do? That's how pompous they are, thinking that they have the freedom to do such things. They think they own the place!"

Diesel's mouth formed into a grimace. Yes, he remembered alright.

"And to be fair," Diesel 10 continued, "It was merely a misadventure of yours that got you sent away after two of the green monstrosities failed at their own simple jobs. Despite the many occasions that you've tried to be friendly to those stinkies, yes, I know all about that so you needn't look ashamed of yourself, in fact, I commend you for making the effort to show that we diesels have much better manners than the stinking steamies. Despite all those attempts on your part, do you really think that they want to be friends with you?"

"Well," murmured Diesel, "When you put it like that, I suppose not."

"It's not just that," said Diesel 10. "Every time a new or visiting diesel comes to the island, all it gets is abuse, insults, and tricks played against it. We diesels may not be subtle in how we tell the steamies what we think of them, but we only retaliate when they start first. That's how noble we are. That's how well-mannered we are. We prefer to get on with the job to show Sir Topham how useful we are. How many times have we had to step in whenever one of the steamies fails in its work? They're getting old and weak, and it won't be long before all the controllers realise that diesels are the only way forward."

"Yeah," snarled Diesel, now beginning to accept that what he was being told was the truth. "I've lost count of how many times I've had to do things that the steamies failed at."

"And you trucks," growled Diesel 10, pointing at the youngsters who were sniggering amongst themselves. "Do you really like being bashed about by the stinking steamies? Well, I suppose I can answer that question myself, after all, you showed that red blister, James, that he was better than you, didn't you? You showed him so well that you don't misbehave when he's pulling you, didn't you? And don't forget that boring blue engine, Edward, will you? He's really shown you who's boss of the marshalling yards, hasn't he? Yes, I know where you lot stand!"

"That's not true!" called out one of the youngsters.

"Yeah," another one said. "We still play tricks on them!"

"And cause trouble!" a third called out.

"And call them names!"

"And slow them down!"

"And bump them back!"

"And we laugh at them!"

"Yes, you do do all those things," agreed Diesel 10, "But only when you think you can get away with it. Do you think that it's enough, though? Do you ever stop and wonder if there's more that you can do? More importantly, have you ever wondered why we diesels are here?"

"Well, why are you here?" asked the first youngster.

"Yeah, tell us," the second called out.

"We want to know why you're here!"

"Tell us, tell us, tell us..." the group of youngsters started chanting together.

Diesel 10 looked down at the youths and smirked. This was just what he wanted, to be acknowledged as the one with all the answers. He let the youths carry on until a loud gruff voice called out, "Yeah, please do tell us!"

He then looked over to the green-suited BoCo as he addressed the gathering and decided that he needed to do a little bit more convincing.

"Well, my friends, it's that simple I don't know why you all haven't thought of it. I suppose that's why I'm up here talking and you are all down there listening. But I'll tell you, it's because they don't make steam engines any more. It's as simple as that. Diesels are replacing all the steam engines that are getting too old to work any more. We're more powerful, more efficient, and more useful than the steamies, and it's only places like this island that still have steamies out of some misguided sympathy from the railway owners to the 'nice and charming' bleatings that the steamies make. I tell you all, anything the steamies can do, we can do, and do it better. Look at myself, for instance... "

Diesel 10 lifted his mechanical hand, opening and closing its prongs as he did so, and asked, "Do you know of any steamy that can do what I can do... er, did?"

Shaking heads met Diesel 10's questioning scrutiny. "No, I didn't think you would. Now you know why we diesels are here," he told his audience.

Diesel 10 was pleased with the way things were going. He'd established himself as the only one amongst them that had the answers. Admittedly, they were answers to his own questions, but still, they were all listening to him and agreeing with what he was telling them. What he had told them was being accepted and, as long as the steamy-friendly diesels didn't waiver in their new stance then all should go well, as long as what his fellow conspirator had told him was true, he thought. The only problem was that the diesels as well as the steamies had been affected when that accursed engine's magic had gone of the rails, he thought, sniggering at his own joke. That had really changed things. His only wish now was that he could find a way to get all the diesels back to their former states, as everything would be for nothing if Sir Topham Hatt was to get new diesels from the mainland to replace those he'd lost when Lady's magic had failed. But what if they've been affected as well, he wondered.

ooo

Jeanie felt nervous as she glanced at her passengers in her rear-view mirror. Whilst the old woman, Henrietta, seemed to be gentle and polite, she wasn't quite so sure that her friend, Toby, wasn't fully right in the head. Maybe he's on a day out from the nut-house, she thought. I hope he won't turn violent.

They were following behind the ambulance that had arrived to take Burnett Stone to St, Tibba's Hospital in Wellsworth, and it seemed that Toby was on a roller.

"You see," said the old man, excitedly, "It's all because a magical engine in Shining Time has fallen ill. She's the one that keeps the magical railways and all the trains on Sodor alive. Her illness is so bad that her magic is failing and that's what's turned Henrietta and myself into people. When I was a tramcar, I'd take the workmen to their jobs in the quarries, and in the evenings, I would do night-time services from town to town with Daisy. She's another engine, but she's a diesel."

"Has this 'Daisy' woman been changed from a train into a human as well?" Jeanie asked him. The more I keep him talking, the less chance there is that he'll turn nasty, she thought. But what will he do if I ask or say the wrong thing?

"I don't really know," replied Toby. "I mean, I don't really know why we turned into people, Henrietta and I, that is, in the first place. All I remember from last night is picking up Burnett Stone and what he told me about Lady falling ill and, of course, the accident we had."

"Yes, the derailment," acknowledged Jeanie. "The accident that didn't have any wreckage."

"Yes," agreed Toby, his voice rising with excitement. "That's because I'm not missing anything. I crashed onto my side. That's how I'm aching on that side of my body and that's how Mr. Stone got injured when he was thrown out of my cab."

Well, Jeanie thought. At least he's consistent with his story.

"I wonder what Sir Topham will say when he finds out about us," continued Toby. "I think he'll be rather surprised when he sees Henrietta and myself actually walk into his office."

"And this 'Sir Topham' is your doc-, er, boss?" Jeanie asked him.

"Yes. Sir Topham owns Sodor Railway."

"Er, do you have any friends other than Henrietta?"

"Yes, I do. Lots. Let me see, now... there's Thomas, Percy, Gordon, Henry, James, Edward, all of whom I see quite often. Then there's Duck, Mavis, Emily... I've so many friends it's hard to remember all their names. Oh, you know that bus we just passed, well, that's Bertie."

"That bus was 'Bertie'?" Jeanie asked him, incredulously, as she checked her rear-view mirror again, seeing an ordinary but old-fashioned red single-decker bus picking up some passengers at a bus stop.

"Yes," said Toby. "We compete for passengers sometimes but he's a good friend, really."

Jeanie's eyes flicked up to her mirror again and she saw the elderly man's eager-looking face. Or is it manic, she wondered. Just wait till my sister hears about this. It would make a great children's story. They could even use electric model train with little faces on the front to make a show for TV!

Suddenly, she giggled, then the giggles turned to loud laughter and she was forced to stop the car as the ridiculousness of what she'd just thought sunk in. She couldn't stop laughing until after about four or five minutes of repeatedly wiping tears away from her eyes with some tissues from a box she kept in her glove-compartment before regaining enough control of herself to apologise and drive off again. When we get to St. Tibba's, she thought, I really must ask if they're missing a couple of patients.

ooo

James carefully bit into the custard cream biscuit and started to chew what was in his mouth. After two of three chews his eyes lit up with surprise as he experienced its taste. Chewing the soggy mass even more, he felt his tongue pushing it to the back of his mouth and he reflexively swallowed it.

"Wow!" he exclaimed.

"What was it like?" asked Thomas, agog with anticipation as he held a custard cream of his own in his hand.

"It was... wonderful," said James with a big grin on his face. "It's nothing like having coal shovelled into your firebox at all."

"What do you mean?" asked Percy.

"Well," said James, as he pulled another biscuit from the packet. "You know how we can tell what type of coal we're burning by the smoke it gives off, well, this is like that but so much better. First of all, it felt very dry, then I felt my mouth getting wet on the inside and before I knew what I was doing, I was crunching it between my teeth. And the taste, well, I don't know how to describe it. No, there were two tastes. The hard bit on the outside that was dry tasted different to the soft cream inside, which was... well, it was exciting! And then the two tastes turned into one taste but I could still taste the first two tastes at the same time, and then I crunched it up some more and then I felt it going down my throat. If I still had my whistle, I be toot-tooting it as loud as I could!"

Thomas and Percy looked at each and Thomas asked, "Shall we...?"

"Let's!" agreed Percy, holding his own biscuit, and the two friends simultaneously placed a biscuit on their tongues and drew them back into their mouths. As they started chewing the biscuits Percy started to speak. "You're chwight, Chames! Ich'sh chweally gw-" and fell silent as biscuit crumbs dribbled and spat out of his mouth and onto his chest and lap, as well as James and the table.

Over the sounds of giggles and laughter, Gordon growled, "I don't think you should try talking and eating at the same time, Percy," before letting out a few chortles himself.

After the two friends had finished their biscuits, Thomas turned to Gordon and said, "Well, are you going to show us how to eat those?" as he pointed to the packet of ready salted crisps on the table.

"How typical of you little ones to ask us big ones how to do things," replied Gordon, picking up the packet and tearing it open. Unfortunately, Gordon didn't realise how delicate it was and it tore further than he thought it would, spilling half the crisps onto his lap and the floor by his feet, which set of the engines laughing again.

"Whoops!" he said, blushing. "I don't think that was supposed to happen!"

He picked up one of the crisps and put it into his mouth to chew.

"Mmmm!" he murmured, as his tongue dissolved the salt off the crisp. "I want more of these!" and he started to stuff more and more of the crisps into his mouth until it was full. He chewed and swallowed and picked another handful of crisps to put into his mouth, only stopping as he realised how undignified he looked. His face reddened even more as the other continued to laugh at him.

"Are... are you shu-shu-sure you're sup-up-posed to eat that many in one g-g-go?" asked Percy, not able to stop himself laughing.

"I... I couldn't help myself," huffed Gordon. "They were making me do it," he added, pointing at the rest of the crisps on his lap. "I feel really thirsty, now, though!"

"What about you, Henry?" asked James. "Tell us what the orange juice is like."

Henry picked up the glass of fresh juice and put it to his lips. He swallowed a mouthful and let out a most unusual sound, "Blehhgh!"

"What wrong?" asked Thomas. "Don't you like it?"

"Whu-huu-hu-huh!" Henry's eyes closed tight as his face shrivelled up at the bitterness of the orange juice and he shivered as he said, "It-it-it's horrible! It was so cold and it made my face want to curl up."

After he'd recovered and opened his eyes, he asked, "And people drink that? This 'being human' thing is going to take me a while to get used to!"

"Well," said Annie, sitting at the other table, "This milk is nice."

"Yes," agreed Clarabel. "It's quite smooth to drink."

"Well, I'm glad some of you are enjoying yourselves," moaned Henry. "I think I'd be happy just to have coal and water to keep me going."

"Don't worry," said James. "There's lots of other things that people eat and drink as well. I'm sure you'll find something that you'll like. Here, have a biscuit."

Henry reached over to the packet James was offering just as Sir Topham re-entered the café carrying several sheets of paper.

"Ah, glad to see you're all well. I'm pleased to say that Debra finally showed up and it seems that she was suffering the same coughing and itchy eyes thing that I had last night. Whilst she sorted out your lists, I had time to do some phoning around, and I've got some good new for you all. Harold and the buses haven't been affected in any way so it seems that it's only the trains' magic that's been affected. I've arranged with the bus company to send some coaches to act as replacement services to cover the journeys that you were supposed to be doing, so the platform will get less crowded as the morning wears on. Debra will tell anyone that phones or comes here expecting to use a train to use the buses instead. If anyone asks why the trains aren't running, I've told her to say that there's a fault with the signalling system. I've contacted the local radio station and given the same reason to them so that they can make regular announcements to their listeners so that they can make alternative arrangements.

"Now, I've also arranged for either a driver or a fitter to accompany each of your groups so that a familiar face for any of the trains that may have changed and become distressed by what's happened to them will help to soothe any worries."

"The taxis will be here soon and they know where they've got to go. I've arranged for Harold to come and pick me up so that I can get home as quickly as possible to meet Mr. Percival as the narrow-gauge engines at the quarry have changed just like all you have. Not only that, I've been having phone calls from the other station masters to say that their engines have changed as well. I don't know if this is a permanent thing or only temporary, so if the worse comes to the worst and you start to feel as though your going to change back into engines, you must make sure that you are in the open air and as near to a railway track as possible. I don't want to have to explain how a steam engine happens to suddenly appear inside a taxi!"

Whilst the group of former engines talked excitedly about the narrow-gauge engines, Percy called out, "Please, Sir Topham Hatt, Sir! You haven't given me a task to do yet, Sir. I want to be useful as well."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Percy. I had so many things on my mind, I forgot your task. What I'd like you to do is to stay on the platform here and keep an eye open for any, um, former engines that have made their way here and to explain to them what is happening. Any messages I have for you during, Debra can pass them on to you. What you'll be doing is a really useful thing, and I know I can rely on you to do it right."

Sir Topham knew that Percy was one of the most timid engines on Sodor and, with the lack of self-confidence that the little green engine had often displayed, he knew that to show Percy that he had faith and trust in him would do him the most good during this crisis.

"Excuse me, Sir Topham," said Gordon, "But you said that 'it's only the trains' magic that's been affected'. Are there other magics on Sodor?"

"Um, er, yes. It appears that that is the case," replied Sir Topham. "Although it's only the trains that have been affected at the moment. I don't really know any more than that until I get back to Hatt Hall."

"Sir Topham, Sir," said Thomas. "Have you heard anything about Edward yet? Has he changed as well?"

"No, Thomas. I haven't heard anything yet. If and when I do, I'll let Percy know so that he can tell you when you get back, though I really do hope that what's happened to us hasn't happened to the trains on the mainland.

"Excuse me, Sir Topham," said Gordon, "But you said that 'it's only the trains' magic that's been affected'. Are there other magics on Sodor?"

"Um, er, yes. It appears that that is the case," replied Sir Topham. "Although time will tell if it is only the trains that have been affected. I don't really know any more than that until I get back to Hatt Hall. Right, here are your lists and a pen each." Sir Topham then walk around the two tables handing out individual lists, and then said, "Gordon, James and Thomas, if you three come with me to the office, I'll give you some coins each and show you how to use a phone if you need to contact me whilst you're out."

ooo

Roger Jenkins slowed his car to a stop just next to where three rather outlandishly dressed women were climbing through the wire fence that separated the lane he was driving along and the railway tracks. He was in his mid-twenties and, just like any other young man with a new, well, second-hand, open-top Ford Escort Cabriolet, he'd taken it out for a drive in the early morning sunshine. Not wanting to knock anyone down in the narrow and twisty lane, he had to watch out in case any of the women veered into his path, hence the reason why he stopped.

"I say, Ladies," he called out. "Strange place for a morning walk, isn't it? The railway lines, I mean."

"Naw, laddie," said Emily. "Ma wee friend here was finding it tiresome walking on the tracks, so we decided to gae on tha road instead," she added, gesturing towards Daisy.

"Oh, are you tourists?" he asked, hearing the old woman's Scottish accent as he cast his eyes up and down the green-dressed woman standing beside her, in fact, he observed, the very short green-dressed, stiletto-wearing, long black-haired woman who was fluttering her obviously fake eye-lashes at him.

"Naw. Ma frins an masel live no far awae from here."

"Oh, right," acknowledged Roger. "You're on your way home, then?"

"Naw, laddie. Wer on oor way to tha station to see Sir Topham Hatt. Mibbies yer be gae tha way yersel... "

Roger knew a hint when he heard one and, if he played his cards right, well, who knew how better his day could get. Jumping out of his car, he raced round around to the other side and opened the front passenger door for the smiling, rosy-cheeked, long black-haired woman with the very short dress to sit down, after all, politeness could get a young man very far indeed.

Daisy sat down in the front seat and crossed her legs in the cramped space. "Ooh, thank you, kind sir," she said, charmingly.

"Mu-mu-my pleasure, Miss," gulped Roger, then he turned to the woman's two older friends and opened the rear passenger door with his left hand whilst gesturing with his right in a sweeping bow, pointing to the rear seats as he said, "And you too, my dear ladies,"

"Thank you very much, kind Sir," said Mavis. "It's most generous of you."

"Not at all," replied Roger. "I'm sorry it's not longer that a few minutes drive," he said, glancing again at the long legs of the woman in the front passenger seat. "Oh, before we set off, you'd better put your seatbelts on. I wouldn't want any of you to get hurt if I had to do an emergency stop!"

"Seatbelt?" Mavis asked.

"Yes," replied Roger. "They're right next to you," he added, a slight look of puzzlement on his face. This can't be the first time she's ever been in a car, surely?

He turned to face the gap between the two front seats and said, pointing at the same time, "Down the side of the seat by there. Pull it across your body and clip it in that little bit by there."

He watched to make sure that they'd fastened their belts and looked towards Daisy. "Here, let me help you."

"Excuse me," he murmured. He then stretched his right arm across Daisy to grab hold of her seatbelt from where it was hanging beside her whist holding onto her headrest with his left hand, his face mere inches away from hers as her looked into her innocent eyes with their long eyelashes fluttering so appealingly at him. "This one is a bit tricky sometimes," he said to her, his heart beating so much inside his chest he thought she might be able to hear it.

Daisy smiled back at him and said, "Ooh, you're so noble, thinking of our safety. You are such a gentleman."

"It... it's my pu-pu-pleasure," he mumbled back, feeling his face redden even more. He turned his face away from her to concentrate on clipping the belt in place and mentally weighed the pros and cons of gently tapping her smooth thigh, but decided that he didn't want to alarm her, and so merely said, "There, all done," and sat back in order to drive off to the station.

As they set off, he looked up at the rear-view mirror and asked, "Aren't you two rather hot in those long coats of yours?"

"Naw," said Emily. "It... it's tha way we usually dress."

"And you, Miss, you don't find it too cold with... without a long coat?"

"No," replied Daisy. "A long coat wouldn't show off my swerves," she added, her voice sounding rather seductive to his ears.

Roger coughed as he felt his face redden. "Um-er, I see!"

After a short while, Daisy looked over to Roger and, smiling, said, "My, this is a smooth ride. I could sit here all day long."

"Well," said Roger, and despite his cheeks reddening enough to match Daisy's blusher, he decided to go for gold. "Mu-mu-maybe I could give you a ride some other time?"

"Ooh," squealed Daisy. "That would be lovely. I'd like that very much. What about you two?" she asked, turning to her friends in the back and showing off more of her legs than Roger thought humanly possible.

"I wouldna mind at all," replied Mavis. "What about you, Emily? Do you fancy a ride in this young man's car as well some time?"

"Aye, I most certainly would like tha," Roger heard the old woman, Emily, say. Bugger, he thought.

ooo

"Here you are, Gentlemen," Sir Topham Hatt said to the three former engines, handing them each a small slip of paper. "Those are the phone numbers for Knapford Station and Hatt Hall in case you need to get in contact with me. Put them somewhere safe so that you don't lose them."

Thomas, Henry and Gordon all looked down at their bodies and, coming to the same decision, they all put the little slips of paper into their coat's side pockets, tucking them down to the very bottom so that they wouldn't fall out.

"And here are some coins for any pay-phone that you may have to use," Sir Topham added, opening up the station's petty cash tin and picking out a handful of fifty-pence pieces. "If you meet any other, er, former engines or wagons, tell that that Lady's ill and her magic is affecting the island and that we are working on helping her to get better and change them al back to trains. For now, they are all to stay where they are unless I tell them to go somewhere else. It's important that you tell them that or goodness knows what some of them will get up to."

He handed a few of the coins to Gordon and Henry but, when it came to Thomas' turn, Sir Topham stopped and asked, "Thomas, what have you been up to for you to get your hand so dirty so soon?"

Thomas looked at his right hand and gasped, seeing brown dust all over his shiny black glove. "I don't know, Sir. My hand was clean when I left the café."

He turned his hand over to check the other side of the glove and saw that that, too, was dirty. That's strange, he thought. I haven't touched anything other than those biscuits I ate.

Sir Topham handed him a tissue from a box on Debra's desk to wipe his glove clean.

"Thank you, sir," said Thomas, and he started to wipe his dirty glove, but then he saw something glitter near the tip of one of the fingers.

"Ooh, what's that?" he asked.

"What is it?" queried Sir Topham, looking over.

"I don't know, Sir. It's very small whatever it is."

"Here, let me have a look," said Sir Topham, and he took another tissue, wetted it with a little bit of spit, and dabbed it on the part of the finger that Thomas was now pointing at.

"Well, I never," he said, excitedly. "Have you been out prospecting, Thomas?"

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"Well, this looks just like gold, but it's not really. It's what's called iron pyrite."

"What's iron pyrite, Sir?" asked Gordon.

"It's rock that looks like gold," said Sir Topham, smiling. "It's made of iron and sulphur, but if a prospector finds some and takes it to an assay's office, he'd be laughed at. Just because it looks like gold, it doesn't necessarily mean that it is gold, and this stuff fools a lot of people into thinking it is gold, that's why they call it 'Fool's Gold'. Many years ago when I was a young man, myself and some friends went to the Dolaucothi Gold Mine in Mid Wales where the Romans used to dig for gold when they were in Britain nearly two thousand years ago. It was a very interesting place, and there was a stream nearby where we were allowed to pan for gold, though after two hours of sieving through the mud all we ended up with was a teaspoonfull of this stuff, fool's gold. So, Thomas, that's why I asked you if you'd been out prospecting. Well... ?"

"No, Sir. I haven't been out anywhere. I've only walked up here with the others from the engine sheds."

"Hmm," sighed Sir Topham, a slight frown over his features as he thought about this development. "The only places where you'd find this stuff is if you were digging into a mountain or panning for gold in a river."

Thomas's eyes widened in surprise. "Sir, Sir, I think I know where it came from, and if I'm right, then Percy may have some in his pockets as well."

"Why on earth would you think that, Thomas?" asked Gordon. "What have you two been up to this time?"

"Nothing," snapped Thomas, glaring up at his tall friend. "If I'm right, then there's only one place it could have come from. Come on, let's go and check Percy!"

The four men made their way back to the café and Thomas, leading the group, quickly burst in and cried out, "Percy, hold your hands up in the air!"

"Wu-wu-why? What's wrong? I haven't du-du-done anything!" the short green-coated man stammered, with a look of puzzlement on his face.

Instead of replying, Thomas asked him, "Have you put your hands in your pockets yet?"

"Nu-nu-no," Percy anxiously replied. "Wu-why?"

Thomas looked over to Sir Topham Hatt and said, "Sir Topham, Sir, if you would be so kind... "

"Stand up, please, Percy," commanded Sir Topham.

Nervously, Percy carefully stood up and gulped, "Wu-wu-what have I done wrong, Sir?"

"You've done nothing wrong, Percy," replied Sir Topham. "But you may just help us with a little puzzle."

"Oh," said Percy, slightly alarmed. "Hu-how's that?"

"We'll soon find out," said Sir Topham, stepping forward and raising his hands as though he was going to embrace Percy but instead, smoothly slipped them into his coat pockets on either side of him. He dug his fingertips into the very bottom of the pockets and, after scraping them back and forth for a few seconds, withdrew them. Stepping back, he held both hands up in front of his face and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, Thomas," he said. "It seems you were right. Would you care to tell me how you knew this?"

"Yes, Sir, Sir Topham, Sir. It was last night. I was waiting at the engine shed signal and Percy pulled up behind me. Next, that smelly Diesel Ten came along on the parallel track and covered us both with rived mud. He told us he'd scooped it from the river bed just for us, Sir. He's been doing it to me for the last few weeks, Sir, and I was going to report him to you this morning, Sir, but... but this happened to us." Thomas gestured to his body to emphasise the transformation that had occurred during the night.

"I see," said Sir Topham in a serious tone. "I'll be having some strong words with him when I see him next. Deliberately setting out to cover an engine in mud is certainly not a useful thing for him to do. Leave him to me, Thomas, and I'll sort him out. Right, Ladies and Gentlemen, now that the excitement is over, let's get on with the show, shall we? I see that the taxi drivers are waiting on the platform for you."

Out on the platform, three men wearing the light blue fleece jackets of Knapford Taxis were wandering round looking for someone official to report to, and Sir Topham and the former engines went out to meet them.

ooo

Diesel 10 stood on the steps beside the fuel tank and glared at the youths as they whispered and sniggered among themselves.

"Listen carefully to what I want you lot to do," he called out, pointing his metal-pronged hand in their general direction. "Seeing as you like getting into mischief so much, what I want is for you to create some confusion and delay amongst those stinky steamies. If you see any of them wandering about, distract them and send them on a wild goose chase somewhere. I'll leave it up to you to decide how. Diesel, I'd like you to stay here at the yards in case any of the other diesels show up. If they do, tell them I said for them to wait here until I return. BoCo, I've told you how the steamies try and get us diesels into trouble all the time, so I want you to remember that when you go about on your task. What I want you to do is to spy on them and report to me what they get up to. I don't trust them one little bit and we need to keep our wits about us, so don't let us down, will you? Remember what they called you when you first came here?"

"Yeah, I do," replied BoCo. "Don't worry, I'll let you know what they're up to."

"Good. Splodge, you two will go and look for that steamroller, George. There's a little job I've got for him that'll be right up his street."

As the group dispersed to go about their various tasks, two pairs of eyes looked down from the crest of a hill over-looking the marshalling yards.

"Do you think he's up to it?" the owner of the first pair asked.

"We'll find out soon enough," replied his companion. "Or else he'll find his 'new' form somewhat less robust than what he'd like!"

Laughing, the two watchers turned around and set off in opposite directions.

ooOOoo