"Well," said the Manager, stepping down from the podium, "we must now get down to business: with Carys gone, we'll need another engine to cover for her. John, I want you…" He trailed off, realising that the Blue Bagnall was nowhere to be seen. "John?!"

"He's not here," said Tim. "He chose to stay in France after the war, remember?"

"Oh…right." The Manager gave a sigh. "I really gotta get more engines. Work's not getting less busy, and I know for sure four engines can't handle all the work alone. I know the War Department built a few engines that are sitting there unused, perhaps they can help us out. For now, just carry on as much as you can. To save you the wear, Falcon, I'll lessen boat train times to give you more rest with each run."

"Yes sir," said Falcon.

"I can help out with the other trains when I'm not taking the Picnic," Duke put in.

"We need more engines, Sir," Intervened Tim. "I can handle the mine trains no problem, but what about the Horse and Cart?"

"I'm aware that we need more engines, Tim," said the Manager. "I'll be sure to make some calls to workshops and see what they can build us. In the meantime, try to carry on as best as you can."

And with that, the Manager walked away.

"Silly nonsense!" scoffed Falcon. "I don't need extra rest, I can handle the Boat Trains with no trouble!"

"Fifteen minutes isn't enough time to fully rest, Falcon," said Duke sternly. "We all have limits, you know."

"Pah! Fifteen minutes is nothing, I can handle anything!" snorted Falcon.

"Like you handled those troublesome trucks?" asked Tim. Falcon spluttered furiously!

"They pushed into me, wasn't my fault!" he snapped.

"And how did they push you? Trucks don't have propulsion, you know."

"Well I know for sure I don't need to remind you of your first time on the Mountain Road, youngster," said Duke. Falcon whooshed steam and rolled off to the sheds.

"He'll get over it," said Duke. "You know what he's like."

While Falcon would get over it, the Manager couldn't get over the trouble he was having getting new engines: the War Department, as it turns out, did have several engines to dispose of, and he managed to purchase one of them, but it was still in France. It would take months for the boat it would travel on to arrive in Arlesburgh. With no other choice, the Manager began looking to other workshops, including Kerr Stuart and Company in Stoke-on-Trent. They agreed to build the Mid Sodor a locomotive of their Tattoo Class saddle tank engine, and offered him a Skylark tank engine that had recently been returned to them after the previous railway had closed down. Agreeing to this, the Manager paid for both the construction of the Tattoo and the regauging of the Skylark.

The Skylark, who was numbered 6 and named Jim, was the first to arrive, before the year of 1919 closed out. Jim was immediately put to work on the Horse and Cart, a task he took to rather well, though Falcon couldn't help but notice something rather unusual.

"He doesn't really talk much," he said one night. "I whistled hello but he didn't say anything!"

"Maybe he's shy," suggested Duke. "It comes natural when new places are involved. Give it time, he'll come round soon enough."

"And there's another thing I don't understand: why's he number 6 instead of 5?"

"I'll answer that," said the Manager. "After buying Jim and the other two, I decided it was time for Arlesdale Works to try building a locomotive of their own. This engine will be our number 5, and will be named Albert. Don't you dare sulk at me, Falcon: there can be more than one Albert, you should you. After all, your predecessor WAS named Albert too."

"Still, it feels too soon to reuse that name!" snorted Falcon.

"If you have a problem, talk to the workmen: they're the ones who chose that name. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

Jim joined Duke and Falcon in King Orry's Bridge Shed that night.

"Sorry for not speaking to you earlier," he said. "I was just trying to finish all my work. I must say, I've never had to work so hard before!"

"Didn't you pull trains where you used to live?" asked Falcon.

"Not trains as big as the ones you have," replied Jim. "In fact, we only had one coach!"

"One coach?! How can you carry passengers with only one coach?!"

"Not all railways carry passengers, the coach was only for workmen, we just transported goods."

"Wow! All this time I thought a railway couldn't run without passengers," remarked Falcon.

"All railways need to transport something, you know," said Duke.

"Next story you'll tell will be of an engine with two boilers," snorted Falcon.

"Actually, now that you mention that, I do remember seeing such locomotives at Boston Lodge during my steaming trials. They're called double-fairlies, and they had been built by Boston Lodge as well, one, Merddin Emrys, entering service the same year as me, 1879. They don't really have two boilers, but they do have boilers with two ends. The firebox is located in the middle. I'll admit, there was one thing I could never understand about them."

"What would that be? How they know which way they were coming or going?" asked Falcon.

"All engines have crews that can determine that, you know," said Duke. "But the double-fairlies, well, despite having only one boiler, at least one of them, James Spooner, had two faces, each one having its own personality. Another, Little Wonder, also had two faces, but only one personality. I've no idea what determines whether a double-fairlie has two separate personalities on each end or is one personality throughout, but I do know that double-fairlies are very strong: 14 or 12 coaches they can pull, and they can pull very heavy trains."

"You sure James Spooner didn't have two separate boilers combined into one?" asked Falcon.

"Now that would be very difficult to accomplish," chuckled Duke. The Manager happened to overhear this, and decided to contact Boston Lodge.

The months passed, and soon, Spring had arrived. With the year of 1920 came the Roaring Twenties, a time of great prosperity and wealth. It was late one morning in March when Falcon, sleeping at King Orry's Bridge, found himself rudely awoken.

"Hello!"

Falcon jumped and bashed into the buffers behind him!

"Oh, sorry, did I scare you?"

"Yes, yes you did!" snapped Falcon. He looked ahead: the engine who had woken him was a green saddle tank with an 0-4-2 wheel arrangement. "You new here?" he asked.

"Oh yes, very much: I left Kerr Stuart a few weeks ago and travelled all the way to Cronk via rail and the rest by something called a Traction Engine! Oh boy, there were so many sights to see, you should've been there! Lots of green trees, plenty of buildings, and there were even engines bigger than you and me!"

Falcon couldn't help but stare in bewilderment: it was most unusual to see an engine be fascinated by things he would see everyday. Then he remembered.

"Did you say you left your workshop a few weeks ago?"

"Oh yes, very much so! I was told I would be coming here to do work!"

"Well, it's nice to meet you," said Falcon. "I'm Falcon, what's your name?"

"Stuart, I think. At least that's something the men there said when near me. Sounded perfect so I went with it."

"I'm glad to see you two have already met," said the Manager, walking up to both of them. "While I know how you feel about the Boat Trains, I feel you need help. That's what I brought Stuart here for: you'll both take turns to pull them, depending on which of you is at which end of the line. Falcon, I'd like you to take Stuart on this Boat Train run so he learns the ropes."

"Yes sir," said Falcon.

"Excellent! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to buy my ticket: our War Department engine will be arriving today as well, I'll be travelling on this train to meet them."

And with that, he walked over to the station.

A crew soon lit Stuart's fire and the Tattoo had a nice lot of steam. Falcon took him over to the coaches, which Stuart seemed surprised by.

"Wait a minute, we can't pull these!"

"Why ever not?" asked Falcon.

"They're too small: boats can't fit inside them!"

Falcon suddenly began laughing, only to stop when he saw Stuart giving him an odd look.

"You serious?"

"I mean, it is called a BOAT train," said Stuart. "Why would it be called that if it wasn't carrying boats?"

Once again, Falcon found himself remembering that Stuart had just left his Workshop.

"Ok Stuart, let me explain something: the term Boat Train isn't meant to be taken literally: it's called that because at Arlesburgh, it connects with a steamship from the Isle of Man. This train uses these saloons to carry the passengers in. Besides, you've travelled behind bigger engines, how would we narrow gauge engines be able to haul such large boats?"

"Uh, well…I guess I don't know," Stuart admitted.

"Exactly! No hard feelings. Now come on, let's get our train into the platform."

Falcon couldn't help but take a liking to Stuart: the Tattoo was eager to work and made great company. If this engine was to be his Boat Train partner, he thought, the Manager had chosen the perfect one.

As Stuart was the stronger engine, Falcon coupled up in front of him. Stuart had been a little rough when he backed down.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry," said Stuart sheepishly. "Wait, surely that wasn't too hard!"

"Coaches," said Falcon, "hate being bumped. It's best to try and be gentle with them."

"Any coaches will do for any train, right? Does it really matter what coaches we use?"

"It's not that simple," said Falcon. "Those bogie saloons are what passengers travelling via boat deserve. No other coaches will do, now come on: let's get these into the station."

Stuart was gentle as they pulled their train into the station for the 8:25 departure to Arlesburgh.

"Who is this new engine? He looks very smart!" The passengers gathered around Stuart.

"I'm Stuart, who are you?"

The passengers didn't answer: they just kept crowding around him, which confused the Tattoo. At one point, Falcon was sure they would lift him up and toss him aside!

"Alright, alright, get on the train!" ordered the guard. "We're due to leave soon!" The passengers did so and Stuart breathed out.

"I thought I was going to suffocate there!"

"We're engines. We don't breathe, well, not like humans do."

"Surely you didn't feel crowded by those people!"

"It wasn't me they were crowding around," said Falcon. Soon, the guard had blown his whistle.

"Wh-what was that?! Is somebody in trouble?!" Stuart asked, alarmed.

"No worries: that was the whistle of the guard," said Falcon. "That just means it's time for us to go, as well as when he waves a green flag."

"Oh! That's a relief!" sighed Stuart. The two engines departed without any issues, making perfect time. As they approached Ballamoddey, Stuart was surprised when they sped past the platform.

"Wait, there were passengers on the platform!" he shouted.

"Those passengers are waiting for another train," said Falcon. "We, Stuart, only stop twice, and Ballamoddey isn't one of them. I'll brake when we get to our first stop."

"Other…train?" Stuart asked slowly.

"Surely you didn't think a railway this large only had one train!" chuckled Falcon.

"Err…well…I've not seen any others."

"You will in time: there are five other engines here, myself included. You'll like our number one, Duke, and I'm sure he'll like you too."

Stuart listened as Falcon told him about the other engines. They soon arrived at Ulfstead Road, but much to Falcon's surprise, Duke was in the loop!

"Duke?! What are you doing here?! Shouldn't you be down at the Harbour with the Picnic?!"

"I was, Falcon," Duke confirmed, "but this morning, Jim burst a valve. I had to take over the Up Horse and Cart while he has repairs done. I was told to wait here until you passed: there was a delay after Jim's valve burst."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Falcon.

"No worries: he'll be back in service soon enough. His repairs won't take too long: he'll be taking the Picnic once they're finished."

"Why are you called Duke?" Stuart asked.

"Oh, my deepest apologies! I didn't notice you there! My name, youngun, comes from His Grace, the Duke of Sodor. This railway was the brainchild of the Chairman, Sir Arnold Norramby, and he named me in his honour. Now that I've told you about me, what's your name?"

"Stuart, I'm Stuart. I didn't know you could have picnics at harbours. I also didn't know engines on this railway have lunch breaks!"

Duke couldn't help but laugh.

"How do you come up with your jokes, Stuart?"

Stuart looked confused, which was when Duke stopped laughing.

"Oh, you weren't joking. Sorry. Anyway, to answer your question, the Picnic is my special passenger train that carries holidaymakers and travels along the line stopping wherever passengers want to stop so they can get out and either hike or have a picnic. It runs from Easter to Michaelmas, leaves Arlesburgh at 11 AM, and returns there by 5:09 PM."

"Wow, that sounds amazing! I wish I could pull that special train!"

"Work hard, and you just might!" said Duke. "Hard work is what brings success, especially on railways. Keep calm, Stuart, and you'll go far. But don't just use the Picnic as motivation: if you don't work at all, the railway can't help the people it serves."

"Uh, thank you Duke, I promise: I'll work hard and keep everybody we serve happy."

After he finished, Suart heard the doors of the coaches being locked.

"Did these passengers do something wrong?" he asked.

"Bless you no!" chuckled Falcon. "We're required to have carriage doors locked when running on the stretch of line between here and Arlesdale."

"The reason for that, Stuart," Duke put in, "is all along of an incident that happened before the line could open: we had hoped for a June opening following the Board of Trade Inspection; but the Inspector, disturbed by the scanty clearances in the mountain section, refused to allow this even though he could not fault anything else. When, however, it was pointed out by the Spooners that the clearances to which he took exception were, if anything, more generous than those which had been allowed and passed for the Ffestiniog, he paid the line a second visit at the end of September, and reluctantly passed it on condition that similar safety precautions to those enforced on the Ffestiniog should apply, namely that all carriage doors should be locked between Arlesdale and Ulfstead Road. And it's been that way ever since."

"No hardship anyway," said Falcon. "We need to stop for water at both places for the Upward journey anyway, while the Downward journey requires the mandatory brake test here, ample-enough time to lock the carriages."

"Don't the passengers get upset about this?" asked Stuart.

"Natives have no problem with it, they've accepted it as a matter of course," said Falcon. "Tourists, on the other hand, are more finicky: they always complain about "being imprisoned without trial". Pay these no heed."

"You mean there's a problem with tourists?" asked Stuart.

"Tourists are decent enough folk," said Duke, "but compared to us Sudrians, they aren't quite right in the head!" Duke and Falcon laughed about this, something Stuart didn't seem to get. "Nevermind, Stuart: you'll understand in due time."

"Thanks, Duke," said Stuart. At that moment, the guard blew his whistle.

"Take care, Stuart!" called Duke as the two tank engines departed. "I wish you dry rails and good running!"

Stuart found the view from the Mountain Road fascinating.

"Lovely view, indeed," agreed Falcon. "But be careful: one wrong move and you'll end up sliding down that gorge."

"Wow! That sounds like fun!" Stuart exclaimed.

"It sounds fun, but it actually isn't," said Falcon, and he told him about his near-miss. Stuart couldn't help but shudder. "Don't worry Stuart: nothing can happen if you take care and keep an eye on the track for obstacles."

At that moment, a small branch whacked Falcon in the eye.

"Ouch! Where did that come from?!"

"Probably fell off a tree and blew over here," said the driver. "We'll see if you've had any damage once we get to Arlesdale."

As it would later turn out, Falcon was undamaged, but still annoyed.

"At least I didn't end up losing an eye," he mused.

"You! Out of my way!"

A black 4-6-0 tank engine with a cigar in his mouth steamed over to the station. Parking himself in front of Stuart and Falcon, he blew smoke all over the platform.

"OOOOH! Watch what you're doing!" Falcon called. "And what are you even doing in front of us?!"

"I'm pulling a train, stupid," said the engine.

"That doesn't answer my question! There's a loop next to the station! And who gives you the right to pollute the air around here with the smell of burnt cigars?!"

"The name's Stanley, punk!" snapped the engine.

"And my name isn't punk, it's Falcon! Now answer the bloody question!"

"What's all this shouting about?" asked the Manager, stepping out of his coach and walking over. "Hey, you're the Baldwin 10-12-D I ordered! What are you doing here?! You weren't supposed to arrive until this afternoon!"

"Ship arrived early, snotnose," snorted Stanley, spewing his cigar on Falcon's face. "I was unloaded and steamed up. Now this blue ball of iron is blocking my path and refuses to move."

"That's no excuse: as I said, there's a loop next to the station! If you wanted to pass, you could just use that!"

"Shut up. I'm bigger, so I get priority. Stand aside before I force you."

"You'll do no such thing," said the Manager sternly. "Boat Trains always take priority over goods trains and other passenger trains regardless of engine size. And you were supposed to wait for me to arrive before starting work, not going off right away. Also, this is a non-smoking area."

"Not for me it ain't," said Stanley. "Times are changing and you must change with them, your idea of how priority works is way too old-school. Driver! Bring me another cigar, the box is on my cab."

"Is there a reason why you're letting your engine act like this?" the Manager asked the driver.

"I'm not," the driver replied. "He's doing it himself." Stuart, Falcon, and the Manager couldn't believe what they had just heard!

"Your engine…is driving himself?!" the Manager shouted.

"That's impossible!" exclaimed Falcon. "No engine can move without a crew, it's impossible!"

"Not for me it ain't, Falco," said Stanley. "I do it all the time, I had to in the trenches."

"This isn't the trenches, this is a railway," said Falcon. "Engines aren't supposed to drive without a crew: it's unsafe."

"That's old school thinking!" snapped Stanley. "I mean, think about it: if having a crew drive you was required for safety, what are you supposed to do when they fall out and you become a runaway? Huh?"

Stuart and Falcon were at a loss for words! Even the Manager couldn't deny Stanley had a point!

"Also, what's this "Non-smoking area" bullshit? It's all open air here, I should be free to smoke where I want, when I want. Besides, if smoking wasn't allowed, you wouldn't be having trains would you?"

The Manager did not approve of this.

"The smoke you produce from your funnel is different from the one that comes out of your cigar," he said. "Smoking tobacco can cause lung cancer. It's also a fire hazard."

"Pah!" snorted Stanley. "Nobody's ever had problems with my smoke, and you're breathing it fine. And fire hazard? Please: all engines have a fire inside them."

"That's a contained fire," said the Manager. "Uncontained fires can cause massive destruction. I also see your coaches have had a rough journey. Hey, wait a minute, are these the coaches for the Picnic? I swore I put Jim on that train."

"Jim? You mean that weak green bug? Yeah, I pushed him aside."

"You…did…WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!" Falcon shouted. "How dare you push aside a fellow engine!" Stuart, who had been silent, finally broke it.

"You've no right to push other engines around!" he shouted. "You don't even deserve to be here! You're a selfish…black…" He shouted out a word so vulgar it could not be said here. Falcon and the Manager were taken aback by this, never expecting young chipper Stuart to lose his temper like that. A few parents covered the ears of their children. By the time he finished shouting this word, it was time for the Boat Train to depart, or it would've been had Stanley not been blocking the way. He was breathing heavily.

"Racist, much?" chuckled Stanley. "Well, I don't need to take that from a green bug like you, Limey."

"You're the bug here!" Stuart snapped. "What gives you the right to push other engines aside?"

"It's Darwin's law: the strongest always go first."

"Clearly, you've been miseducated," said the Manager. "And bullying isn't welcome here." He turned to the driver. "Have your engine move those coaches into a siding, then…"

"You ain't making me do shit!" Stanley interrupted. He charged forward, surging into Falcon. He and Stuart kept their brakes on hard. "Move aside!" he shouted, pushing even harder.

"NEVER!" shouted Stuart and Falcon together. Suddenly, from underneath, there was a crunch. Stanley leaped off and landed on the ballast! Stuart and Falcon released their brakes and reversed, so the damage could be assessed.

"Well, looks like I CAN make you do shit," smirked the Manager. "You may be able to move without a crew, but you certainly can't travel without rails."

"Just watch me!"

Stanley began chugging, but all his wheels did was spin rapidly.

"Come on! Come on!" he shouted. Suddenly, there was a splash! "What's going on?!" he cried, as his fire fizzled out.

"Water douses fire," answered the Manager. "While you were trying to move without rails, I filled a bucket with water and splashed it into your firebox. You may be able to move without a crew, but you definitely can't move without a fire."

"You goddamn fucking abuser!" Stanley shouted.

"And what right have you to call our Manager an abuser when you yourself pushed Jim off the rails just to pull this train?" asked Falcon.

"Not to mention how he treated us!" snapped a coach.

The Manager decided to cancel the Boat Train: Stanley had caused too much trouble to keep it running for the rest of the day, and the timetable had been disrupted way too much by his refusal to wait for other trains. Buses were called to take the passengers on to the port. Needless to say, Stuart and Falcon were not in agreement with that, and Falcon made it known.

"I don't agree with buses taking over," he said, "but I can't really complain sir: after all, if Stanley was able to push Jim aside, who knows what other trouble he could've caused with his self-driving."

"My thoughts exactly," said the Manager.

Duke was called over to help with rerailing Stanley. He was not pleased with what he saw.

"How exactly did this engine get a hold of my Picnic?" he asked.

"Well, Granpuff," said Falcon, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you, so I'll let the Manager explain."

"Thank you, Falcon," said the Manager, who then turned to Duke. "To put it simply, Stanley here has somehow found a way to drive himself. He ended up using that ability to push Jim off the rails and steal your Picnic. As you can see, he's also caused disruption."

Falcon was right, Duke did find it hard to believe.

"Such devilish behaviour would never suit His Grace! Furthermore, how is it possible to drive yourself?!"

"Easy: just do it," said Stanley. "I had to do so plenty of times when I was in the trenches. Takes practice, but can be done. All you really need a crew for is to light up your fire."

"This, youngster, isn't the trenches," said Duke sternly. "We don't approve of engines running around carelessly."

"Listen here, bud," drawled Stanley, "in the States, we don't care a dime for a few spills!"

"We do here," said Duke sternly. All Stanley did was laugh.

"That's enough!" shouted the Manager. "Duke, take Stanley back to Arlesburgh. I'll be having him out of action until I can figure out how I can stop him from self-driving."

"Of course sir."

That night, the other engines gave Stanley a verbal beatdown, especially with how he had treated Jim.

"Driver! Bring me one of the green ones. I'll need it."

No response.

"Your driver isn't here," said Falcon. "Did you forget he stayed at Arlesdale after you left him there?"

"Somebody bring me a fucking green cigar!"

"What do those green ones have?" Tim asked his driver, though he couldn't help dreading the answer.

"Gunpowder," answered his driver. Tim gasped! Luckily, nobody brought Stanley anything. Falcon left the sheds to join Duke and Stuart at the harbour.

"No, you idiot! My green cigars have weed on them!" screamed Stanley as everyone left: while the thought of the sheds blowing up was horrifying, they were more eager to get away from Stanley. Tim decided to spend the night at King Orry's Bridge: an engine would be needed to take the Workman's Train down to Marthwaite.

At the Harbour, Falcon found Duke and Stuart at the goods shed talking with the Manager.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked.

"Not really," said the Manager. "Duke and I were just discussing possible ways to stop Stanley from self-driving. He's needed on this railway, but we can't have a self-driving engine causing trouble. As for Stuart, he came down here because he didn't want to be near Stanley."

"Yes, it is indeed troubling," agreed Falcon. "The only thing positive I can see about self-driving is that you can bring yourself to a halt if your crew falls out and you become a runaway. But other than that, there aren't really any benefits. It seems the only way to control him is to keep a fire out of his firebox, and that's not efficient when the day is busy."

"I agree with you there, Falcon," said Duke. "Worst part is any solution we come up with, that runagate Stanley's sure to find a way around it."

"And he won't listen to anybody!" put in Stuart. "He was even rude to Granpuff for no reason!"

"Very much so!" agreed Falcon. "Our Duke has been with this railway for years! He may be old, but he's as useful as he ever was! Much more than Stanley ever will be! Remember how I told you about when he saved me from falling? That's when I started to respect the Bulldog."

"And I appreciate that you never stopped, Falcon," said Duke with a smile.

Suddenly, Falcon beamed.

"I've got it: he can't drive himself if another engine is in front of him!"

"That's brilliant!" the Manager shouted. "Only trouble is IF there will be another engine available to lead him all the time."

"I'll handle that, sir," said Duke. "Just focus on getting another engine to cover for Stanley should I turn out to be unable to do so, and no other engines are free."

"We can handle that!" said two unknown voices at the same time. A large blue engine was unloaded from a flatbed on the standard gauge line.

"The heck you mean "we?" There's only one of you!" Stuart pointed out.

"Wait, this engine: a double-ended boiler. Duke, is this one of those double-fairlies you told me and Jim about?"

"It is indeed, Falcon!" Duke exclaimed. "Can't say I recognise this one though."

"I overheard your story about them and decided to order one for myself," the Manager said. "Seems it's one of those that has sentience on both ends."

"Sentience on both ends?" asked Stuart.

"Well, Stuart," said Duke, "that basically means both ends of the boiler have their own personality. Nobody knows how, but with double-fairlies, sentience can be either one entire entity, or the engine ends up developing sentience on both ends."

"You got that right. Now, who is the boss around here?"

"That would be me," said the Manager, walking up to the engine. "I am Christoph Carlin. Who might you be?"

"I'm Mighty."

"And I'm Mac."

"And together, we're Mighty Mac!"

"Nice to see another Ffestiniog engine around here," said Duke.

"At least now Stanley won't have to leave the sheds," said Falcon.

"When's our first train?" asked Mighty.

"The first train from here is the Parliamentary," said the Manager. "Departs Arlesburgh at 5:40 and arrives at Peel Godred by 7:24. You can either take that or the Horse and Cart, which departs Arlesburgh at 6:18 and arrives at Peel Godred at 9:18."

"Thanks, but I want to sleep," groaned Mac.

"You've been sleeping the whole ride, Mac!" Mighty snapped. "You can't be tired!"

"How would you know?! You never sleep!"

"That's a goddamn lie Mac, and you know it!"

"He'll need to sleep anyway, Mighty," the Manager cut in. "No trains are running at this hour, and you'll need all your energy to pull trains tomorrow. So I suggest you get to sleep."

"But I don't feel tired!" complained Mighty.

"You will soon," said Duke. "And your, uh, twin, said he feels sleepy."

"Don't mind Mac, he's just lazy," said Mighty.

"How dare you call me lazy!" shouted Mac. "Take that back!"

"I don't think so buster!" Mighty shouted. "I've not seen you work hard ever!"

"Well you never work at all!" snapped Mac.

"Alright, alright, break it up," said the Manager. "Even if both of you weren't tired, you have no fire in your firebox, so you can't go to work right now. And like I said, the first train from here doesn't depart until 5:40, so Mighty Mac, you'll have to sleep. Falcon, since you still have a fire, shunt them alongside Duke and Stuart: I've no doubt you three would rather spend the night here than with Stanley."

"You guessed correctly, sir," said Falcon. He coupled up to the Fairlie and dragged them to the goods shed. The three engines introduced themselves to Mighty Mac as the Manager went home for the night.

"What exactly is wrong with this Stanley?" asked Mac.

"He drives himself and pushes other engines off the rails," said Duke.

While the four engines talked to each other, Stanley sat in Bridge Street sheds, feeling cold. He didn't feel lonely or miserable though: instead, he felt angry.

"What kind of railway neglects its engines? I'm bigger and more efficient. I don't need a crew being trained to drive me. I can do it myself. That goddamn manager is too behind on the times. I'll show him. I'll show all of them: the whole railway will see I'm efficient and then they'll all…burn…in…HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL!" Suddenly, Stanley felt something burn inside his firebox! He stayed still, and suddenly, he began to feel steam in his cylinders. Stanley began to smirk. Now he would have his revenge on all the Mid Sodor. He looked around, making sure nobody could see him. Afterwards, he steamed out of the sheds, ready to cause more trouble…

Morning came. The Manager went over to Bridge Street to check on Stanley. Much to his surprise, he wasn't there! Instead, he was sitting outside of the sheds, in steam, derailed on some points.

"Now how did this happen? I swore your fire was put out."

"Anger, it powers everything. Your mistreatment of me has led up to this."

"I didn't mistreat you in any way," said the Manager sternly. "You're the one who chose to behave badly and push poor Jim off the rails. So it's all on you."

"Pah!" snorted Stanley. "I'm an independent engine, I don't let others tell me what to do! I do what I want when I want and you've no right to take that away from me! You got a problem with your head if you think you can!"

"I'm surprised these points were able to derail you," the Manager remarked. "You didn't seem to have any trouble pushing yourself past the other sets of points. I guess these points are sturdier than the others. Then again, maybe this is for the best. I better call for help to get you rerailed."

Thus, Mighty Mac's first job ended up being to help rerail Stanley. It was a quick and easy job, the Manager making sure to throw water onto Stanley's fire to make it even easier.

"Best to load him onto a flatbed for a while," said the Manager. "He'll surely try to cause more trouble if left on the rails."

"I'll break your legs for this, buster: you can't stop me from freedom!"

Falcon felt devastated when he heard this.

"What's the point of coming up with ideas if he keeps finding ways around them!" he grumbled.

"Now, Falcon, your idea wasn't a bad one," the Manager reassured him. "Stanley just…found a way."

"Anger is indeed a powerful force," Duke put in. "You'd be surprised at what can be done when you get really angry."

"No! Heel, stop!"

The Manager and engines looked in surprise to see a boy struggling to hold a dog, which was pulling on the leash.

"I said heel!" the boy shouted.

"He seems to be having trouble!" Stuart observed.

"It's a good thing the dog's on a leash," said the Manager. "It would run off and possibly get killed if it wasn't."

"Leash…" muttered Stuart. He suddenly began to smile. "That's it! A leash!"

Later on, Stanley was back in his shed, brooding. Duke soon puffed into his view with the Picnic. His anger rising, Stanley suddenly felt his fire burning.

"I'll teach you to leave me in here!" he shouted. Stanley began puffing forward. Suddenly, his wheels started to slip! "Come on! Come on!" he barked. Suddenly, he felt something snap behind him. The Baldwin shot forward and derailed on the points! "How'd this happen?!" he exclaimed. Duke, who witnessed the whole thing, laughed.

"Stuart's leash idea was genius!" he exclaimed. Stanley, confused, looked back. He saw that the buffers he had been against had a coupling hook attached to him. It was then that everything dawned into place.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't keep trying to move without a crew," said the Manager, walking over before Stanley could start ranting. He quickly threw another bucket of water onto Stanley's fire. "From now on, you'll be staying attached to these buffers on a leash. If you want the leash removed, start working with the other engines instead of against them."

Stanley growled, but said nothing.

Mighty Mac handled all the trains Stanley was meant to pull easily, even managing to do double-duty. All Stanley could do was sulk in his shed as he watched other trains roll by. The Manager began looking into other engines who found ways to drive themselves, hoping one of them would be willing to tell him how to stop Stanley from doing so.

Eventually, Stanley would come up with another plan to get back at everyone. That, however, is another story.