A/N Donald's Duck was the name of this episode in my country.

Hey, it's me, Donald. This time, I shall tell of the time a duckling got in my water tank.

Duck the Great Western Engine worked hard in the yard at the big station. Sometimes, he pulled coaches. Sometimes, he pushed freight cars. But whatever the work, Duck got the job done without fuss. One day, Duck was resting in the yard when Sir Topham Hatt arrived.

"Your work in the yard has been good. Would you like to have a branch line of your own?

"Yes, please sir," replied Duck.

So Duck took charge of his branch line. The responsibility delighted him. The line runs along a coast by sandy beaches til it meets a port where big ships come in. Duck enjoyed exploring every curve and corner of the line. Sea breezes swirled his smoke high into the air and his green paint glistened in the sunlight.

"This is just like being on holiday," he puffed.

"Well, you know what they say," laughed his driver. "A change is as good as a rest."

Soon, Duck was busier than ever. Sir Topham Hatt was building a new station at the port. Duck pulled the heavy freight cars wherever they were needed. Bertie looked after Duck's passengers and us other engines helped, too. But the work took a long time. Noise and dust filled the air.

"Don't worry," whistled Toby. "The station is nearly finished."

"And on time, too," said Duck thankfully. Duck felt this responsibility deeply and talked endlessly about it. Duck told me about how he got his branch line because I work on the branch line, too.

"You don't understand, Donald, how much Sir Topham Hatt relies on me."

"Och aye," I muttered sleepily.

"I'm Great Western and I..."

"Quack, quack, quack." I was tired of Duck's talk.

"What?"

"You heard. Quack, quack you go. Sounds like you'd an egg laid. Now wheesh and let an engine sleep." I was making fun of his nickname because he was bothering me.

"Quack yourself!" said Duck indignantly. Later, he spoke to his driver. "Donald says I quack as if I'd laid an egg."

"Quack do you?" pondered his fireman. He whispered something to Duck and his driver. They were going to play a joke on me and pay me back for teasing Duck. Us engines were busy for the rest of the day and nothing more was said. Not even a quack. But when at last I was asleep. Duck's driver and fireman popped something into my water tank. Next morning when I stopped for water, I found that I had an unexpected passenger aboard. A small white duckling popped out of my water tank.

"Na doot, who's behind this," I laughed.

The duckling was tame, she shared my fireman's sandwiches and rode in the tender. The other engines enjoyed teasing me about her. Presently, she grew tired of traveling and hopped off at a station and there she stayed. That night, my driver and fireman got busy and in the morning when Duck's crew arrived to look him over they laughed and laughed.

"Look, Duck. Look what's under your bunker. It's a nest box with an egg in it."

I opened a sleepy eye.

"Well, well, well. You must've laid it in the night, Duck. All unbeknownst!"

Then Duck laughed, too.

"You win, Donald. It'd take a clever engine to get the better of you."

There's a pond near what was the duckling's station. Here, she often swam and welcomed our trains as they passed by. The stationmaster called her Dilly. But to everyone else, she was always Donald's duck. The way the others teased me about her made her my duck to all but that old stationmaster.

A/N Respect my story.