STEAM DUEL
Duck laughed all the way home that evening, and so did his driver and fireman. They couldn't wait to tell Oliver the news.
"That's one in the head-lamp for 'Old Safety-Wheels'", Oliver tooted with triumph once Duck had concluded his story, "If he keeps up those dangerous stunts, he'll be off the road by the end of the week!"
"All the same", said Oliver's driver, "We shall have to wait and see what happens". The fireman gravely nodded in agreement. The engines exchanged anxious looks. Neither of them understood what he meant, but they were soon to find out.
*
The big red bus bumped angrily along the country road that ran near the railway. Both his decks were empty of passengers. Nobody wanted to ride in him. They thought him too dangerous. Much to his fury, the news had stretched much further then the Little Western Branch. Bertie and his friends couldn't hold back their chuckles as he had rumbled past their bus station that morning. Engines wheeshed him and passengers shook their heads in disapproval - "It's all that steam engine's fault!", he grumbled, "Now I'm a laughing stock! I'm a disgrace to my cause!"
"Don't give up so easily", whispered his conductor, "It's only been two days. Give it time and before long, we'll be giving those out-of-date danger-hazards a run for their money".
"We'll have to be discreet though", added the driver, "The manager wasn't too happy about that ticket!"
Indeed he wasn't. The bus company manager wasn't pleased at all at being sent all the way from Knapford in the middle of the night to pay the speeding tax. He had given his crew a fair warning, which stick well in their minds. But the bus couldn't help but think about the day before, and the embarrassment he had suffered since. He wanted to get back at the railway, but how, he didn't know.
Further ahead, just before the level crossing leading towards the town, some workmen were widening the road. George the steam roller was helping, chanting his usual song as he went about his work - "Railways are no good! Pull'em up! Turn em' into roads!".
A temporary set of traffic lights had been set up to guide the traffic. At present, the bus came rolling nosily up alongside, waiting for the lights to change, his exhaust-pipe spluttering in complaint.
"I can't work any faster", George mumbled hotly, "If that's what's making you grumble so loudly".
"It's not that", the bus snapped back, "It's this miserable railway".
George, who had always been anti-rail since his arrival on the island, was strike by an instant sense of comradeship - "The railway you say?", he asked darkly. The bus told him everything about the previous day, how he had almost succeeded in taking Duck's passengers, but ended up being stopped by the police...and loosing the passengers to Duck once again - "It's a disgrace!", he concluded, "Buses everywhere shall look down upon me forever"
George felt sympathy for this fellow - "It is indeed a shame", he said sympathetically, "But there is a way in which you could get your own back..."
"There is?", asked the bus with excitement, "Please tell me!"
George looked about to see if anyone would catch his words before whispering discreetly. The bus grin broadened at each word - "It'll look just like an accident", concluded the unfavorable steamroller, "And they can't do a thing about it!"
"Excellent plan!", chuckled the bus, "I'll try it!"
And he sped away the moment that the traffic lights changed.
*
Oliver was excited, as he steamed into the main station at the end of the line with Isabel and Dulcie, their paint shining brightly in the mid- morning sunlight. With Duck away on the Mainline for the day, he had been given the task of taking some very important people, to a very important event at the big town on the other end of the Little Western Branch. A new transport museum was opening, and he was to take the ribbon-cutter, along with other special guests to the ceremony. He barked excitedly as he came to a halt at the platform, the important passengers climbing aboard. It was Bertie had brought them to the station.
"Good day to you Bertie!", Oliver called excitedly, "I see 'Old Safety- Wheels' decided not to show himself"
Bertie chuckled - "You mean Brutus?", he asked, "Indeed. The passengers are too anxious to ride with him. The news of his run in with the police yesterday is all over the branch line".
Oliver gave a whistle of delight - "And he said he would put us to shame!", he grinned with pride, "Duck certainly showed him! Bye Bertie!"
And with a big whoosh of steam from his pistons, he set off smoothly down the line. Before long, he was coasting through the countryside beauty of the branch line, tall hills on one side, thick trees on the other. A road ran beyond the trees, but it was ckear, much to Oliver's delight - "So", he thought as he puffed along, "His name is Brutus! I'd say it suits well! What a lark!"
At present, he passed by George and the workman, who had just finished their task and were loading a trailer readying to head home. He took this chance to have some fun - "Peep! Peep!", he whistled loudly, "One to us!".
George said nothing. He only watched with a dark scowl as the train rolled on ahead - "We'll soon see about that", he huffed under his breath, and set off slowly down the road.
Everything was going well, until they arrived at the level crossing. Oliver's driver quickly shut off steam and brought his engine to a halt. Oliver felt his brakes scream and he shut his eyes - "Ooooo!", he groaned, "Whatever is happening?"
And the moment he opened his eyes, his smile faded. Sure enough, sitting directly in the middle of the crossing, his bonnet smoking, sat the big red bus, or should I say, Brutus. His conductor had flagged down the train, whilst his driver was looking him over to see if he was hurt. Oliver puffed steam crossly.
"What's all this about?", he steamed, "I'm going to be late!"
"I'm not going anywhere!", Brutus swiftly replied, "I've broken down".
Oliver continued to huff smoke loudly in aggression as his driver, fireman and guard all met beside the line. They spoke for a moment before approaching Brutus' driver and conductor on the crossing.
"Your going to have to move this thing on the double Eddie", the driver said bluntly to the bus conductor, "This train has to be in town before midday".
"I don't think that will be so easy Del", the bus conductor replied, "Our Brutus is having engine trouble. How's he coming Earl?" - he called over his shoulder to the bus driver.
"The fan-belt's snapped", he replied, slamming down the bonnet quickly, "We're going to have to call for a tow".
Brutus squirmed. But Oliver was sure that he saw a distant smile upon the baneful bus' face.
"That's not good enough", replied Oliver's fireman, "That could take hours! We'll be late, and that just can't happen!"
"We're all stuck here till we move Brutus", replied the conductor with a snappy tone, "The facts are clear and simple Colin. We have just as much work to do as you and your tea-pot-on-wheels over there".
Oliver's fire began to spit in his cab, sending ashes all over his foot plate. Isabel and Dulcie exchanged anxious looks and repaired themselves for the worst. They could feel their coupling chains shaking, not with fear, but from Oliver's anger.
Oliver's driver and fireman swallowed the opportunity to argue - "This wouldn't happen to be deliberate now would it?", asked the guard with suspicion.
"Your saying that we snapped our own bus' fan-belt on purpose?", said the bus driver, quickly joining the conductor at his side, "Why? I'll soon set you straight..."
An argument erupted. The guard was having trouble separating Oliver's driver and fireman from Brutus' driver and conductor. Brutus smirked. Little did his crew know that he had indeed snapped his fan-belt on purpose. But this sly gesture did not go unnoticed. Oliver caught him in the act and steam began to pour from his pistons. At present, the chairman of the transport museum had joined the five men beside the track.
"I say!", he said, "What is all this about?" - but he received no clear answer, as both sets of men burst into speech, placing the blame equally on one another. Eventually, the chairman had had enough - "Silence!", he boomed, "There is no time for little arguments! Now, my fellow enthusiasts and I have an important engagement, and if that bus isn't moved in time..."
"I'll have to move it!", said Oliver flatly.
Nobody was sure what happened next, but all the men could do was quickly fling themselves out of Oliver's path, as he slowly rolled forwards, picking up speed as he went, smoke pouring from his funnel and his pistons. Brutus let out a yell of shock and shut his eyes. With a mighty CLANK! , Oliver rammed into his side. He topped over and slide sideways into a ditch, coming a stop with a crash, dazed and surprised.
"Ha!", said Oliver proudly, reversing backwards as more heads appeared out of the carriage windows, the six men on the track side staring in disbelief at the gazed and surprised Brutus, "That'll teach you to get in my way!"
At last, the bus driver spoke - "You'll pay for that one!", he shouted, raising his fist at Oliver and running over to the ditch with the conductor to see if their bus was alright. He was groaning loudly, his bonnet hissing and his side dented. Oliver was pleased with himself, but his driver and fireman were not impressed.
"What were you thinking?", they cried, "Doing that all by yourself? And without warning us!"
"He did it on purpose!", Oliver shouted back, "He deserved it!"
The driver, fireman and guard hadn't a clue of what to do next. But now, they were joined by even more passengers, all confused and anxious. But surprisingly, some of them looked rather excited. Just then, a distant chugging sounded in the distance. Sure enough, George the Steamroller came rolling along the road towards the crossing. He saw Brutus in the ditch, and then he saw Oliver, hissing proudly with a broad grin.
"What's all this?", he spluttered.
"That's iron brute just knocked me off the road!", cried Brutus.
"Serves you right!", Oliver called. Isabel and Dulcie were exchanging remarks of embarrassment, but Oliver didn't care.
Suddenly, the bus driver and conductor came running over to George and whispered to his driver. And I can tell you now, that this fellow was just as anti-rail as the wretched steamroller himself - "If that's what they want!", he said once the two men had whispered their plan, "Then that's what they'll get! Are you ready George?"
"More then ever!", huffed George, and wasting no time, he rolled forwards and onto the track, facing Oliver head on. Oliver stared back at him with a glint of excitement in his eyes.
"So, your challenging me to a 'Steam Duel'?", he asked with a grin.
"You'd better be careful if you don't want to end up like Sir Handle", George grunted in response.
Suddenly, a chorus of cheers and whistling blowing occurred from the large crowd beside the line. All the passengers had gathered, and much to Oliver's surprise, they were spurring him on - "Go it Oliver!", they cheered, "Show that road-baring brute what a steam engine can do!". The chairman of the museum, the driver and the fireman didn't a clue of what was going on. They exchanged silent, confused looks - "A 'Steam Duel'?"
But they soon learned what exactly a 'Steam Duel' was. Without warning, Oliver let off steam loudly and began to roll steadily forwards, the coaches wailing behind him. They closed their eyes and watched for the impact, as George stood firmly on the track. There was a mighty CLANG!, as Oliver rammed straight into George's front roller, sending him backwards a short way - "Ouch!", he cried, "You'll pay for that one teapot!"
Oliver didn't reply. He just backed up slowly, still grinning, ready to charge. But George didn't hesitate. With a blast of his shrill whistle, he rolled forwards and with a loud CLANG!, just as loud as the first, Oliver found himself and the train rolling backwards several inches. He was most surprised at the sudden attack - "Oooo", he hissed, "That hurt!".
"Come on Oliver!", cried his crew, "Back down!"
But Oliver wouldn't listen. Instead, he began to puff thick clouds of smoke through his pistons, preparing to charge. The passengers were cheering him on by his side, whilst Brutus and his crew cheered on George, who backed up to the crossing. The two were like a pair of knights, waiting for the right moment to siege forwards. At last, Oliver's driver and fireman lost patience. They quickly ushered the passengers back into the train (who were still cheering their engine on), along with the museum chair-man, who quickly retreated for the brake-van, so as not to feel the force too violently. "Come on old boy!", said his driver and fireman, "We'll do it this time, and then we'll be on our way!"
"Go it George!", shouted Brutus from the ditch, "Show that teapot what real strength is!"
Both engines stood face to face, a short distant of track between them. Suddenly, with a large blast of smoke from their tall funnels, both set off at the same time, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed, racing towards each other head on. Oliver was confident, his fire roaring and his sight set on George, who was equally determined. The passengers held on tight and closed their eyes, along with the coaches, who continued to wail - "The madness! The madness!", they screamed.
"CH-CLANG!!!"
The noise echoed as the two engines 'locked horns'. Oliver's wheels gripped the rails perfectly, as his coupling rods spun, driving himself against George. George, on the other hand, was having a spot of trouble. Despite his size and weight, he wasn't very stable on the rails. He could feel himself starting to wobble.
"No! It can't be!", he cried, as Oliver continued to push him backwards, his wheels now sending violent sparks up into the air.
Brutus, his driver and conductor all let out a gasp, as with a mighty push, George slid right off the line and joined them in the ditch with a crash. His driver was knocked completely off his seat and was sent flying into a nearby field. The eruption of cheers was unbelievable, as Oliver sped off down the now clear line, rumbling over the level crossing, his whistle wailing loudly, his face red with exhaustion.
"That was exciting!", he panted as they rolled away from the crossing, "That'll show those baneful road-barers what we're made of!"
"Indeed", said his driver, "But what if the Fat Controller finds out?"
Oliver hadn't thought about that one. But he couldn't help enjoying the attention of the passengers, which continued all the way to the station.
*
The train rolled in exactly nine minutes behind schedule. The museum committee were cross, but their complaints were drowned up by the continuing chorus of cheers for Oliver, who could only blush a deep scarlet.
"This amazing engine", they said excitedly, "Has shown us how strong and determined a engine racing against time can be...even if he did arrive nine minutes late!"
"Anyone would think", Oliver's fireman muttered, "That they would disapprove of such behavior, "They are railway enthusiasts after all". But Oliver didn't notice the museum chairman, who slipped quickly through the crowd, and was approached a familiar-looking man, donning a top-hat, his face blunt and serious. The chairman spoke to him before turning on his heal and storming into the museum building, followed by the excited enthusiasts. The top-hat made his way through the crowd and approached Oliver. It was the Fat Controller. The platform fell silent, and Oliver's face turned pale.
"There is only one word I can find to explain this childish behavior Oliver", he said gravely, placing his hands behind his back, "Horseplay!"
"I'm sorry sir...", the Great Western Engine began, "I was..."
"You are to take your coaches back to the carriage shed, and return to the yard at once", the manager continued, ignoring Oliver's words, "I shall speak with you later"
And with that, Oliver turned around on the turntable, and scuttled home in cold silence, his heart sunk and his pride gone in a puff of smoke.
*****
Duck laughed all the way home that evening, and so did his driver and fireman. They couldn't wait to tell Oliver the news.
"That's one in the head-lamp for 'Old Safety-Wheels'", Oliver tooted with triumph once Duck had concluded his story, "If he keeps up those dangerous stunts, he'll be off the road by the end of the week!"
"All the same", said Oliver's driver, "We shall have to wait and see what happens". The fireman gravely nodded in agreement. The engines exchanged anxious looks. Neither of them understood what he meant, but they were soon to find out.
*
The big red bus bumped angrily along the country road that ran near the railway. Both his decks were empty of passengers. Nobody wanted to ride in him. They thought him too dangerous. Much to his fury, the news had stretched much further then the Little Western Branch. Bertie and his friends couldn't hold back their chuckles as he had rumbled past their bus station that morning. Engines wheeshed him and passengers shook their heads in disapproval - "It's all that steam engine's fault!", he grumbled, "Now I'm a laughing stock! I'm a disgrace to my cause!"
"Don't give up so easily", whispered his conductor, "It's only been two days. Give it time and before long, we'll be giving those out-of-date danger-hazards a run for their money".
"We'll have to be discreet though", added the driver, "The manager wasn't too happy about that ticket!"
Indeed he wasn't. The bus company manager wasn't pleased at all at being sent all the way from Knapford in the middle of the night to pay the speeding tax. He had given his crew a fair warning, which stick well in their minds. But the bus couldn't help but think about the day before, and the embarrassment he had suffered since. He wanted to get back at the railway, but how, he didn't know.
Further ahead, just before the level crossing leading towards the town, some workmen were widening the road. George the steam roller was helping, chanting his usual song as he went about his work - "Railways are no good! Pull'em up! Turn em' into roads!".
A temporary set of traffic lights had been set up to guide the traffic. At present, the bus came rolling nosily up alongside, waiting for the lights to change, his exhaust-pipe spluttering in complaint.
"I can't work any faster", George mumbled hotly, "If that's what's making you grumble so loudly".
"It's not that", the bus snapped back, "It's this miserable railway".
George, who had always been anti-rail since his arrival on the island, was strike by an instant sense of comradeship - "The railway you say?", he asked darkly. The bus told him everything about the previous day, how he had almost succeeded in taking Duck's passengers, but ended up being stopped by the police...and loosing the passengers to Duck once again - "It's a disgrace!", he concluded, "Buses everywhere shall look down upon me forever"
George felt sympathy for this fellow - "It is indeed a shame", he said sympathetically, "But there is a way in which you could get your own back..."
"There is?", asked the bus with excitement, "Please tell me!"
George looked about to see if anyone would catch his words before whispering discreetly. The bus grin broadened at each word - "It'll look just like an accident", concluded the unfavorable steamroller, "And they can't do a thing about it!"
"Excellent plan!", chuckled the bus, "I'll try it!"
And he sped away the moment that the traffic lights changed.
*
Oliver was excited, as he steamed into the main station at the end of the line with Isabel and Dulcie, their paint shining brightly in the mid- morning sunlight. With Duck away on the Mainline for the day, he had been given the task of taking some very important people, to a very important event at the big town on the other end of the Little Western Branch. A new transport museum was opening, and he was to take the ribbon-cutter, along with other special guests to the ceremony. He barked excitedly as he came to a halt at the platform, the important passengers climbing aboard. It was Bertie had brought them to the station.
"Good day to you Bertie!", Oliver called excitedly, "I see 'Old Safety- Wheels' decided not to show himself"
Bertie chuckled - "You mean Brutus?", he asked, "Indeed. The passengers are too anxious to ride with him. The news of his run in with the police yesterday is all over the branch line".
Oliver gave a whistle of delight - "And he said he would put us to shame!", he grinned with pride, "Duck certainly showed him! Bye Bertie!"
And with a big whoosh of steam from his pistons, he set off smoothly down the line. Before long, he was coasting through the countryside beauty of the branch line, tall hills on one side, thick trees on the other. A road ran beyond the trees, but it was ckear, much to Oliver's delight - "So", he thought as he puffed along, "His name is Brutus! I'd say it suits well! What a lark!"
At present, he passed by George and the workman, who had just finished their task and were loading a trailer readying to head home. He took this chance to have some fun - "Peep! Peep!", he whistled loudly, "One to us!".
George said nothing. He only watched with a dark scowl as the train rolled on ahead - "We'll soon see about that", he huffed under his breath, and set off slowly down the road.
Everything was going well, until they arrived at the level crossing. Oliver's driver quickly shut off steam and brought his engine to a halt. Oliver felt his brakes scream and he shut his eyes - "Ooooo!", he groaned, "Whatever is happening?"
And the moment he opened his eyes, his smile faded. Sure enough, sitting directly in the middle of the crossing, his bonnet smoking, sat the big red bus, or should I say, Brutus. His conductor had flagged down the train, whilst his driver was looking him over to see if he was hurt. Oliver puffed steam crossly.
"What's all this about?", he steamed, "I'm going to be late!"
"I'm not going anywhere!", Brutus swiftly replied, "I've broken down".
Oliver continued to huff smoke loudly in aggression as his driver, fireman and guard all met beside the line. They spoke for a moment before approaching Brutus' driver and conductor on the crossing.
"Your going to have to move this thing on the double Eddie", the driver said bluntly to the bus conductor, "This train has to be in town before midday".
"I don't think that will be so easy Del", the bus conductor replied, "Our Brutus is having engine trouble. How's he coming Earl?" - he called over his shoulder to the bus driver.
"The fan-belt's snapped", he replied, slamming down the bonnet quickly, "We're going to have to call for a tow".
Brutus squirmed. But Oliver was sure that he saw a distant smile upon the baneful bus' face.
"That's not good enough", replied Oliver's fireman, "That could take hours! We'll be late, and that just can't happen!"
"We're all stuck here till we move Brutus", replied the conductor with a snappy tone, "The facts are clear and simple Colin. We have just as much work to do as you and your tea-pot-on-wheels over there".
Oliver's fire began to spit in his cab, sending ashes all over his foot plate. Isabel and Dulcie exchanged anxious looks and repaired themselves for the worst. They could feel their coupling chains shaking, not with fear, but from Oliver's anger.
Oliver's driver and fireman swallowed the opportunity to argue - "This wouldn't happen to be deliberate now would it?", asked the guard with suspicion.
"Your saying that we snapped our own bus' fan-belt on purpose?", said the bus driver, quickly joining the conductor at his side, "Why? I'll soon set you straight..."
An argument erupted. The guard was having trouble separating Oliver's driver and fireman from Brutus' driver and conductor. Brutus smirked. Little did his crew know that he had indeed snapped his fan-belt on purpose. But this sly gesture did not go unnoticed. Oliver caught him in the act and steam began to pour from his pistons. At present, the chairman of the transport museum had joined the five men beside the track.
"I say!", he said, "What is all this about?" - but he received no clear answer, as both sets of men burst into speech, placing the blame equally on one another. Eventually, the chairman had had enough - "Silence!", he boomed, "There is no time for little arguments! Now, my fellow enthusiasts and I have an important engagement, and if that bus isn't moved in time..."
"I'll have to move it!", said Oliver flatly.
Nobody was sure what happened next, but all the men could do was quickly fling themselves out of Oliver's path, as he slowly rolled forwards, picking up speed as he went, smoke pouring from his funnel and his pistons. Brutus let out a yell of shock and shut his eyes. With a mighty CLANK! , Oliver rammed into his side. He topped over and slide sideways into a ditch, coming a stop with a crash, dazed and surprised.
"Ha!", said Oliver proudly, reversing backwards as more heads appeared out of the carriage windows, the six men on the track side staring in disbelief at the gazed and surprised Brutus, "That'll teach you to get in my way!"
At last, the bus driver spoke - "You'll pay for that one!", he shouted, raising his fist at Oliver and running over to the ditch with the conductor to see if their bus was alright. He was groaning loudly, his bonnet hissing and his side dented. Oliver was pleased with himself, but his driver and fireman were not impressed.
"What were you thinking?", they cried, "Doing that all by yourself? And without warning us!"
"He did it on purpose!", Oliver shouted back, "He deserved it!"
The driver, fireman and guard hadn't a clue of what to do next. But now, they were joined by even more passengers, all confused and anxious. But surprisingly, some of them looked rather excited. Just then, a distant chugging sounded in the distance. Sure enough, George the Steamroller came rolling along the road towards the crossing. He saw Brutus in the ditch, and then he saw Oliver, hissing proudly with a broad grin.
"What's all this?", he spluttered.
"That's iron brute just knocked me off the road!", cried Brutus.
"Serves you right!", Oliver called. Isabel and Dulcie were exchanging remarks of embarrassment, but Oliver didn't care.
Suddenly, the bus driver and conductor came running over to George and whispered to his driver. And I can tell you now, that this fellow was just as anti-rail as the wretched steamroller himself - "If that's what they want!", he said once the two men had whispered their plan, "Then that's what they'll get! Are you ready George?"
"More then ever!", huffed George, and wasting no time, he rolled forwards and onto the track, facing Oliver head on. Oliver stared back at him with a glint of excitement in his eyes.
"So, your challenging me to a 'Steam Duel'?", he asked with a grin.
"You'd better be careful if you don't want to end up like Sir Handle", George grunted in response.
Suddenly, a chorus of cheers and whistling blowing occurred from the large crowd beside the line. All the passengers had gathered, and much to Oliver's surprise, they were spurring him on - "Go it Oliver!", they cheered, "Show that road-baring brute what a steam engine can do!". The chairman of the museum, the driver and the fireman didn't a clue of what was going on. They exchanged silent, confused looks - "A 'Steam Duel'?"
But they soon learned what exactly a 'Steam Duel' was. Without warning, Oliver let off steam loudly and began to roll steadily forwards, the coaches wailing behind him. They closed their eyes and watched for the impact, as George stood firmly on the track. There was a mighty CLANG!, as Oliver rammed straight into George's front roller, sending him backwards a short way - "Ouch!", he cried, "You'll pay for that one teapot!"
Oliver didn't reply. He just backed up slowly, still grinning, ready to charge. But George didn't hesitate. With a blast of his shrill whistle, he rolled forwards and with a loud CLANG!, just as loud as the first, Oliver found himself and the train rolling backwards several inches. He was most surprised at the sudden attack - "Oooo", he hissed, "That hurt!".
"Come on Oliver!", cried his crew, "Back down!"
But Oliver wouldn't listen. Instead, he began to puff thick clouds of smoke through his pistons, preparing to charge. The passengers were cheering him on by his side, whilst Brutus and his crew cheered on George, who backed up to the crossing. The two were like a pair of knights, waiting for the right moment to siege forwards. At last, Oliver's driver and fireman lost patience. They quickly ushered the passengers back into the train (who were still cheering their engine on), along with the museum chair-man, who quickly retreated for the brake-van, so as not to feel the force too violently. "Come on old boy!", said his driver and fireman, "We'll do it this time, and then we'll be on our way!"
"Go it George!", shouted Brutus from the ditch, "Show that teapot what real strength is!"
Both engines stood face to face, a short distant of track between them. Suddenly, with a large blast of smoke from their tall funnels, both set off at the same time, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed, racing towards each other head on. Oliver was confident, his fire roaring and his sight set on George, who was equally determined. The passengers held on tight and closed their eyes, along with the coaches, who continued to wail - "The madness! The madness!", they screamed.
"CH-CLANG!!!"
The noise echoed as the two engines 'locked horns'. Oliver's wheels gripped the rails perfectly, as his coupling rods spun, driving himself against George. George, on the other hand, was having a spot of trouble. Despite his size and weight, he wasn't very stable on the rails. He could feel himself starting to wobble.
"No! It can't be!", he cried, as Oliver continued to push him backwards, his wheels now sending violent sparks up into the air.
Brutus, his driver and conductor all let out a gasp, as with a mighty push, George slid right off the line and joined them in the ditch with a crash. His driver was knocked completely off his seat and was sent flying into a nearby field. The eruption of cheers was unbelievable, as Oliver sped off down the now clear line, rumbling over the level crossing, his whistle wailing loudly, his face red with exhaustion.
"That was exciting!", he panted as they rolled away from the crossing, "That'll show those baneful road-barers what we're made of!"
"Indeed", said his driver, "But what if the Fat Controller finds out?"
Oliver hadn't thought about that one. But he couldn't help enjoying the attention of the passengers, which continued all the way to the station.
*
The train rolled in exactly nine minutes behind schedule. The museum committee were cross, but their complaints were drowned up by the continuing chorus of cheers for Oliver, who could only blush a deep scarlet.
"This amazing engine", they said excitedly, "Has shown us how strong and determined a engine racing against time can be...even if he did arrive nine minutes late!"
"Anyone would think", Oliver's fireman muttered, "That they would disapprove of such behavior, "They are railway enthusiasts after all". But Oliver didn't notice the museum chairman, who slipped quickly through the crowd, and was approached a familiar-looking man, donning a top-hat, his face blunt and serious. The chairman spoke to him before turning on his heal and storming into the museum building, followed by the excited enthusiasts. The top-hat made his way through the crowd and approached Oliver. It was the Fat Controller. The platform fell silent, and Oliver's face turned pale.
"There is only one word I can find to explain this childish behavior Oliver", he said gravely, placing his hands behind his back, "Horseplay!"
"I'm sorry sir...", the Great Western Engine began, "I was..."
"You are to take your coaches back to the carriage shed, and return to the yard at once", the manager continued, ignoring Oliver's words, "I shall speak with you later"
And with that, Oliver turned around on the turntable, and scuttled home in cold silence, his heart sunk and his pride gone in a puff of smoke.
*****
