The Right of Way 207 



cylinder heads, trying to tear to pieces all 

 the many cranks and levers that controlled 

 it, yet spending its fury against them in 

 vain, and in furtherance of the wishes of 

 man, that impotent creature who sat in the 

 cab, one hand upon the whistle-cord, and 

 the other upon the throttle, making this 

 fury, this fiend, this steam, do his bidding. 

 Hour after hour slipped by, and still 

 there was no pausing, no rest for the 

 pounding monster. The sun touched the 

 zenith and slowly slid down the western 

 slope of the blue sky. When it was half 

 way down to the horizon the great river 

 was passed and they thundered into another 

 metropolis, less important than that from 

 which they had started. Here there was a 

 stop for a few minutes, while the great hiss- 

 ing, blowing steed was watered, for even a 

 steed like that gets thirsty upon such a 

 long, hard run across such dry plains. The 

 smoking-boxes were oiled, more coal went 



