"And then he just left?" asked the tank engine.

"Yup. Just rolled away. Then I just kept on going," replied Johnny.

He was sitting in the yard at Old Gorge. The other engines were perplexed by Johnny's story.

"Odd that a loner would help one of us out," said a tender engine.

"I'm a steamie, he is too. I was in trouble and he helped me out."

"It's still weird," said the tender engine.

"His name's 'Thomas'?" asked the tank engine. "Do you think . . ."

"Don't be silly," said the other. "There's got to be more than one engine named Thomas.

Johnny was confused. "What do you mean?"

"She thinks he's the great Thomas himself," said the tender engine.

"Who's Thomas?"

"The greatest steam engine who ever lived!" exclaimed the tank engine. "He's smart and kind and brave. He worked on the island of Sodor, where steam always has a home, and he was a friend to all."

"He's a bedtime story told to young engines to make them forget about the scrap diesels on the other side of the trucks," said the tender engine dismissively. "And tell me when anyone locates the Island of Sodor."

"He's got six wheels and side tanks! It could be him!" insisted the tank engine.

"You, Johnny, was Thomas a cheeky blue tank engine?" asked the tender engine.

"Well . . . no. He was old. And he looked tired and worn-out."

"There you have it," said the tender engine.

"He was built in 1913! He'd be ancient today!" insisted the tank engine futilely, but Johnny wasn't listening. The yard manager, a nice woman named Jane, had arrived.

"I've radioed HQ to tell them that you're here," she said, "but there's no reply. I'm a bit worried. Could you go check it out?"

"All right," said Johnny. He steamed away uneasily.

Johnny had an uneventful trip back to the yard. He saw no diesels, or anyone else for that matter.

There was no sign of the enigmatic tank engine named Thomas.

Johnny soon reached the station by the lake. He whistled the password, like Dulcie had done when he'd first arrived.

There was no response.

Worried, Johnny set off towards the yard. He heard nothing. Even the birds were silent in the trees.

He saw a patch of something black on the rails. Diesel oil? Couldn't be.

Now Johnny was really worried. He hurried into the yard.

He saw a scene of desolation in front of him. The shed had been burnt down. Many of the trucks were off the rails. There was no sign of any of the engines, Dylan, Dulcie, or Mark.

The diesels had found them. And now they were gone.