#traintober23

[hazel-of-sodor]

Traintober 2023

Day 1-A Day Off

Day 2-Closed

Day 3-More than One

Day 4-Returns and Regrets

Day 5-Down a Well

Day 6-Summons

Day 7-Fire

Day 8-Seagull Line

Day 9-The Fallen Light

Day 10-Never a Dull Moment

Day 11-Exhausted

Day 12-Of Reds and Ones

Day 13-Corris

Day 14-The Best Day

Day 15-Recovered

Day 16-Too Late

Day 17-Snow

Day 18-Rebuilt

Day 19-The Chocolate Zephyr

Day 20-Lively Polly

Day 21-Rescue

Day 22-Succession

Day 23-Greater than Yourself

Day 24 Stuck

Day 25-RMS Aquitania

Day 26-Loss

Day 27-Thomas and the Rocket Sled

Day 28-Home Now

Day 29-Rise Above

Day 30-Everest

Day 31-For What We Fall

[pxmun]

Happy 1st day of Traintober!

Day 1: Free Draw

I love the wackiness of the old Sci-Fi movies, so here is a train-a-fied version of "Attack of the 50ft woman"

During a meteor shower, a meteor with strange properties lands in a coal bunker. Gordon ends up with the comet after he refills on coal for that day. When the comet ends up in his firebox, chaos ensues!

Now 50ft tall and with his brakes off, Gordon is a runaway train! Can Thomas, his friends, and Sir Topham Hatt save Gordon before he flattens Sodor?

I'm also counting this as Day 2: bridge.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 1-A Day OFF

Traintober 2023

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Day 1-Free Day

A Day Off

Gordon awoke early as he always did. Sixty years of waking early to take the morning express made it nearly impossible for Gordon to sleep in. However, he usually didn't mind, after all the express must be pulled, came rain, shine, sleet, or hail. Today was not usual. Today he had a day off. Although the concept of engines being given time off had come to Sodor several years before, Gordon couldn't say he truly understood the appeal. Oh he didn't begrudge those that enjoyed the days off, he could certainly understand the goods engines' need for time away from their troublesome charges, but he was an express engine. Express work was difficult, requiring speed, precision, and stamina. It was perhaps the most difficult task an engine could be given. It was also freeing. Nowhere else did Gordon feel alive in the same way he did while at speed with his coaches, racing the wind itself towards his destination.

While the Express had occasionally not ran at times over the years, or it had been given to another engine, he had never missed the express because he was taking the day off...until now.

To his left, he could see Gracie being prepared by her crew for the express. It wasn't jealousy that had him feeling oddly out of sorts this morning, no matter what James said...or at least not as it once would have been. The steam turbine was a friend and had been his running mate for nearly two decades before she was moved to the Vicarstown-Mantauo run. So while he would admit to being envious of her, it was a weak and fleeting emotion, easily brushed aside in favor of his true discontent with being forced to take a day off.

He had nothing to do.

When Henry had oh so helpfully asked what Gordon had enjoyed doing, his answer of "pulling expresses" had somehow only further convinced Sir Topham Hatt that he needed a day off. Gordon was an engine of action,  and while listening to opera recordings while he waited for his next train or as he settled in for the night was enjoyable, he could not see himself doing it for longer than those periods. 

He had briefly considered going to the works for maintenance and perhaps a repaint. Unfortunately, he had been recently given a tune-up, and any maintenance that could be achieved within a day was already done. Repainting wasn't an option either, while he had no doubt he could be repainted if he wished, his current coat of paint was still fresh enough James was using his reflection in it to check his own paint for blemishes.

He had known that approaching his shed mates with his problem would have only led to teasing, and likely would not have produced any usable results, so he had instead approached another engine. Their enthusiastic response had in no way encouraged him.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a quiet peep peep came from the yard as his guide for the day approached. Thomas rolled happily into view, oddly chipper for the early hour considering Thomas was famously not a morning engine. He was pushing a small flat track with an odd bucket on either end with pipes coming out of them towards the ends of the truck.

"Good morning Gordon."

 "Good morning Little Thomas, you seem to be in high spirits for such an early hour."

"It's a wonderful morning," Thomas hummed contentedly, as he buffered up to Gordon.

Gordon raised an eyebrow.

Thomas's driver snorted as she climbed down from his cab, "it's the coffee," She explained.

"Coffee," Gordon repeated dubiously. Whilst he was not as disdainful of human food or drink as certain red engines, he couldn't say he was an enthusiast by any means.

Thomas happily nodded, "A shop in Ffarquhar opened that served engines as well as people." The tank engine took a long sip from the pipe facing him, which Gordon now realized was straw for engines. "It's wonderful,"  he said with a happy sigh.

Samantha snorted as she coupled Gordon to the truck, "It certainly helps out with your mood in the mornings."

Thomas gave the engine equivalent of a shrug.

"I feel better with it. We also got one for you Gordon!"

Gordon eyed the container before him with suspicion.

"It's fine to drink." Samantha said, "Thomas has one every morning and the only side effect is an improved mood."

"Then Gordon needs three," Henry called as he rolled past on his way to the docks to collect the Flying Kipper.

Gordon wheeshed at him, but he only chuckled.

"It's okay if you don't like it." Thomas said seriously, "I know you're not the biggest fan of human food, but I tried to get something I thought you'd like."

Gordon sighed at his friend's nervous expression, knowing he'd at least have to try the drink.

Gordon took a slow hesitant pull from his straw. He expected it to taste like his firewoman's smelled, overpoweringly sweet and creamy. Instead, he got a rich, bitter, and dark flavor, nearly biting in its intensity, and pleasantly hot. When he had finished his sip, he eyed Thomas thoughtfully, "You say you get one of these every morning?"

Thomas nodded, "Yes. Sir Topham Hatt arranged for it to be ready when I arrive for my first train."

Nicole snorted from Thomas's cab, "but yours has enough sugar and creamer to drown someone.,

Gordon considered his coffee thoughtfully, "...I would not be averse to a similar arrangement."

"I knew it!" 

As Thomas happily chattered away as he pulled Gordon from the sheds towards his branchline, Gordon let a fond smile grow on his face. Perhaps a day off wouldn't be amiss after all.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 16-Too Late

Traintober 2023

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Day 16-Purpose

Too Late

James was the one to find him. Thomas was hidden among the disused wagons behind Tidmouth. It didn't surprise James that none of the others had found him. Most tended to forget this part of the yard existed. James only knew because this was one of the spots he went to when everything became too much. As it had become for Caomhnóir.

The tank engine's fire had long gone out, his soot covering slowly washing away under the rain. Tear tracks covered his cheeks, but he was utterly unmoving. He had never looked so small to James as he did right then. Thomas had an energy that swelled past his frames, always moving, never still for longer than a second at a time. When he was upset it was easy to forget he wasn't as big as the main line engines. As Caomhnóir...there was a reason the likes of Flying Scotsman listened when he spoke. But right now? James just saw a little engine, bending under the weight placed on his frames.

James silently rolled to a stop in front of the tank engine, his crew walking away, leaving the two engines alone. For a long time, they remained in silence, James just letting him cry.

"I was too late." Caomhnóir finally whispered, his voice rough from crying. "She was already gone when we arrived."

James had no idea who he was talking about, but he could certainly guess at their fate.

"You can't save everyone." He reminded gently.

Caomhnóir's laugh was bitter and broken, "Everyone? Right now I'm failing to save anyone."

Well, that was enough of that.

"So you did dump that goods train on me last week for no reason."

Thomas looked up, confused, "No, I was..."

"And you had Henry sabotage the kipper the week before that for nothing."

"Of course not! I..."

"And Gordon derailed at Barrow completely by accident last month."

Thomas fell silent.

James raised an eyebrow, "Well? Did you or did you not need cover for engines sneaking in three times in a month?"

Thomas sighed, "I did...but it was not enough."

"No its not..and it never will be." James sighed, allowing his own grief to slip through. "But we can either accept that and help you save who we can, or let them take our kin unopposed."

"There's just so many." Caomhnóir sounded lost. "When I realized she was gone I grabbed who I could but..."

He was quiet for a long moment, " I moved as fast as I could but...." He looked helplessly up at James, "How do I tell Gordon Pretty Polly''s gone."

Oh. Well, that explained it.

"You don't," James said. "I will."

Thomas looked up to protest but James pressed their buffers together. "You have enough on your frames without this."

Thomas shook, "she wasn't supposed to be withdrawn yet. We had a plan, but suddenly they withdrew her, and by the time I got there..."

James took a deep breathe to steady himself, "it's still not your fault." He pushed on before the little engine could protest. "By all accounts, you made a sudden mad dash across the entire country undetected to try to save her. If you failed, then it was because there was no way to succeed, not because you failed in any way."

"I ran out of coal on the way back." Thomas admitted, "The midnight goods had to sneak me in."

Well, that explained why his fire was out.

"That only proves you did everything you could."

***

11 years later.

Thomas was resting at Tidmouth when he heard Gordon's whistle, joined by his siblings. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Gordon, Northern, and Scotsman.

Instead, a fourth engine was in front of him, the three expected Gresley's smirking on either side of her.

She, somehow was an A3 Pacific in BR Express Passenger Blue with the number 60061 on her buffer beam.

"I never got to thank you for trying to save me."

"POLLY?!?!?"

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 5-Down a Well

Traintober 2023

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Day 5-Its only me

Down a Well

Henry had had plenty of bad days. His early years had been marked by plenty of days remembered for all the wrong reasons. But even by his standards...this day was almost impressive in how poorly it had gone before the sun appeared.

He looked up at Gordon, who looked distinctly unimpressed with his existence. James looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or to be nervous about his own part in all this. Jinx was eyeing the turntable with concern. He couldn't see the others from his position, but he could hear them whispering nonetheless.

He felt more awkward than he had since the last time he had failed before his rebuild, it was not a feeling he enjoyed feeling again. Fortunately, Gordon took a measure of pity on him and finally spoke up.

"Are you quite alright Henry?"

Henry looked down. "...my front aches badly. I'm afraid it's only gonna get worse."

Gordon looked down in concern, "I'm afraid I must agree with your assessment."

James stopped snickering long enough to look down to where Henry's front jammed into the side of the turntable in a mass of bent and twisted metal. "At least you can't fall further in," The red engine offered.

Henry glared up at the scarlet menace.

In the distance, the sound of an engine approaching through the yard could be heard.

"Finally." Henry sighed, "Someone who can do something to help."

"Fraid not Henry, it's only me." Thomas peeped happily, causing Henry to sag in defeat. 

"Thomas," Gordon said in warning.

Thomas just chuckled, "Don't worry Henry, I'm only teasing. Edward is on his way, so even if I can't pull you out, we'll be able to."

Henry was wondering what exactly he had done to deserve Thomas of all engines being the one to come to his rescue. He sighed, at least the morning couldn't get any worse...except it did.

"I would certainly hope so Thomas. As he is currently blocking the sheds," the Fat Controller said severely.

"Good morning sir!" Thomas peeped far too happily as his crew attached him to Henry's detached tender, "we'll have him quickly."

"As long as he's not wedged in the table," Jinx said concernedly.

Sir Topham Hatt climbed down the ladder into the turntable well to inspect the damage. As he pulled back a piece of metal he addressed the stricken engine. "Well Henry, would you care to explain?"

"Well, Sir I..." James snickered at Henry's predicament 

"Yes, Henry?"

"Sir if I may? Gordon offered.

"Go ahead."

"A new driver was moving Henry towards the table when James started a fuss about being repainted," James' expression quickly changed from amusement to betrayal. "He caused such a commotion the shunter failed to heed Henry's warnings and braked too late."

"Is that true Henry?"

"Yes sir," Henry said despondently.

"James?" It looked like James wanted to proclaim his innocence for a moment, but thought better of it. "Yes, sir." He sighed.

"Hmmmm. And where is the driver?"

"He was fleeing before Henry had even come to rest," Jynx answered. "My driver had to climb up and shut off Henry's steam."

"I see."

Mr. Smith, the British Rail representative arrived, walking up to the edge of the turntable. "Morning, Sir Hatt. Seems the day's trouble started early.,

"Morning Mr Smith, it had indeed."

Thomas returned and pulled behind Henry, The waiting yard crew began attaching chains between the two engines.

"Can you pull him out Thomas?

"I can try Sir. If he's fully wedged I'll need Edward's help."

"Very well. Everyone clear out. The sooner he's back on the rails the sooner we can repair the damage."

The workmen cleared away as Sir Topham Hatt climbed out of the well."

"Everyone ready? One. Two. Three. Pull!"

With much wheel slipping and clouds of steam, Thomas heaved his hardest. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then with a groan and screech of metal, Henry felt himself slowly start to move.

"Go it, Thomas!" Jinx called, and the others quickly joined in, cheering the straining tank engine on. In what felt like hours, but what was probably less than a minute, Henry felt the last of his wheels return to the rails. Thomas came to a stop, audibly gasping for air from the effort.

"Well done Little Thomas," Gordon said.

"Thank you." Thomas panted out, smiling from the rare praise from the pacific.

Sir Topham Hatt had climbed back down into the turntable well to inspect the damage.

"The main mechanism is jammed." He said grimly, "It cannot be moved until it is repaired. We will need to find an engine to pull the morning express quickly, as we can't get any of the engines in the shed out in time."

Henry stared down at his bent front, it was clear he wouldn't be pulling any trains till he was repaired.

"Edward is coming," Thomas said hopefully.

Gordon shook his head, "he's not strong enough to pull it alone."

Mr. Smith looked to Sir Topham Hatt, "None of the Barrow or Vicarstown engines could arrive in time, could they?"

The Fat Controller shook his head, "No they could not."

Gordon suddenly smiled as an idea occurred to him. "If only we had an engine here with express experience. One who had not only served as my back engine on the Wild'nor Western before but had pulled the trains with Edward when we were indisposed."

Thomas understood first, "Oh no."

The other engines and crews turned to look at the tank engine, who looked one second away from bolting.

James smirked, "Of course! He did such a good job covering for us in the 30s," he purred.

Thomas glared, "I am a tank engine, not a bloody express engine."

"But you are capable," Hatt said thoughtfully. Thomas looked betrayed.

"He is?" Smith asked dubiously.

"Of course!" Henry interjected, "he runs a non-stop service from Tidmouth to Ffarquhar in the evenings."

"He would have to stop at Marion for coal and water." Gordon said smoothly, "but he is capable of making the run, and he would never let the passengers down."

Sir Topham Hatt nodded, "Can your branchline spare you, Thomas?"

Thomas looked desperately around as if hoping an express engine would magically appear, but in the end, he sighed, "Yes. Callan and Toryreck are covering my trains."

"It's settled then." The fat controller nodded, "Thomas and Edward will pull the express while the workmen find a way to get the rest of you out."

He walked off towards the station platform, "Thomas, place Henry on the siding with his tender then fetch the coaches." 

"Yes sir." 

"Cheer up little Thomas." Gordon mock soothed.

"I hope they have to use a crane to get you out," Thomas puffed away to the sound of the big engines chuckling.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 25 A-Tall Tales

Day 25 A-Tale

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Other Days

“I don't believe you.”

Thomas glanced up to see Claire sitting on the station railing.

“About what?” He asked.

“The demon engine.”

“Screech?” He asked. “One, she's not a demon. Two, I know Samantha and Nicole have told you about her.”

Claire rolled her eyes, kicking her keet. “Because they would totally be above helping you prank me.”

Thomas snorted, “a fair point. However, Screech is not a prank.”

Claire looked skeptically at Thomas, “you expect me to believe that the railway we're visiting next week is home to an engine capable of tearing reality apart.”

“Is it any stranger than what I do?”

“You're the champion of a Goddess.”

Thomas snorted, “I think we may have warped your sense of what's normal.”

“...probably.”

A/N: Hello Loves, Yes this is Claire from 'Sodor to Welcome You Home.' Love Y'all!

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 4-Return and Regrets

Traintober 2023

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Day 4-Devious

Return and Regrets

Diesel had been aware the engines of Sodor would not welcome his return. He had turned them against one of their own and no matter how strongly he had felt it justice at the time, Sodor engines will always stick together in the end. So he had been less than pleased when management had informed him he would be returning. Nonetheless, for all his other faults, Diesel would always attempt the work given him, an honest attempt at that.

Perhaps that was why he hadn't been scrapped along with the first wave of his classmates...or perhaps it had nothing to do with him at all.

He knew from hushed conversations from the workers in the yard that British Rail had told the NWR he was the only engine they could spare, despite the fact they were efficiently scrapping so many of his contemporaries. The men believed he was the one sent to punish the rebellious North Western, to cause trouble with his mere presence...he couldn't disagree. It would not surprise Diesel in the slightest if he had only been kept around for such a purpose.

The past few weeks had been...trying. He had been wheeshed, bumped, and whistled awake at every opportunity...all accidentally at that.  Surprisingly the Great Western Pannier 'Montague' was the kindest, in that he ignored him, only speaking curtly to him when required by their jobs.

He...was tiring. The days without sleep were getting to him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped and was sent away. He knew that he would not be returning to a shed, but a scrapyard. He wasn't sure how he felt about his fate, to be honest. For all he had been told he would be revolutionary, his life had been...dull, insignificant,... And one of solitude. The closest he'd come to friends was his first visit to the island before he had unknowingly thrown it away. There was very little he would not have given to have postponed his trip to the island, to have arrived when he was old enough to have realized the difference between the cutthroat politics of the BR Diesels and the ultimately harmless pranks by steam engines. 

His musings were interrupted by the sound of approaching steam engines. He plastered on a smile, even as his teeth grit against each other. Was he to be given no rest?

No.3 Henry reversed back onto the siding to his right, blasting him with steam as he passed, while Montague pulled to his left. 

Before he could ask what the two needed a third engine arrived.

He had never met the engine that pulled in front of him before, but that did not prevent him from recognizing the blue engine. Even without the gold number ones lined in red on his tanks, Thomas the tank engine rivaled the likes of engines such as Flying Scotsman for fame and popularity.

The world's most famous tank engine surveyed Diesel for a long moment. "Hello Diesel, that is what you prefer to be called, correct?"

"Yes, my dear Thomas, it is a pleasu..."

"Stow it!" Henry barked, "We have no patience fo..."

"Henry," Thomas said firmly.

The black five glared at Thomas, "No. Thomas, I will not be quiet about this! I am not James, I realize not all diesels are like the stories from the mainland but this one is!"

That...was surprisingly hurtful. While he had certainly maligned Henry, he had never had anyone sent for scrap like some other engines had. 

"You weren't there." Henry continued, "You don't know what he's like. He's manipulative, deceitful, despicable! Hes..."

"...been perfectly well mannered the entire time." Montague interrupted quietly.

"That we've seen," Henry said.

Montague rolled his eyes, "He hasn't so much as moved an axle without one of us watching him. If he had any schemes, we would know about it."

"You know what he did last time." Henry fumed. 

The great western glared at the tender engine, "Perfectly well as I was the one it was done to."

Oh. Diesel had thought that long patched up, no wonder he was still so reviled if the subject was so painful.

The black 5 had the grace to look abashed. "Indeed."

Thomas spoke up, "I was not there the first time. My overhaul finished mere days before Duck's repairs, but I do know you all massively misjudged Diesel's character at the time."

"Which we cannot allow to happen again!" Henry interrupted.

The tank engine frowned at the massive green locomotive, "and what makes you think your view of him is any more accurate this time?"

Montague chuckled while Henry huffed.

Thomas sighed, "No matter, it has become clear even from my branchline this isn't working. While Diesel is doing an admirable job as a shunter, his presence is distracting all of you from your work."

Thomas looked towards Diesel again, "With the Fat Controller's permission, I'd like to offer you the chance to work on my branchline."

"You must be joking!" Henry swore.

Thomas looked irritably at him, "It is either that or send him back to the mainland where he'll be scrapped.."

"Then let him!"

Thomas's eyes flashed with anger, shining a burning gold. "You overstep by far." He said coldly.

Henry winced, "That I did. I'm sorry Caomhnóir, and more importantly, I'm sorry Diesel. That remark was out of line. No engine deserves the scrapyard."

Diesel hesitantly answered, "It is fine. I likely deserved worse than that."

Henry sighed and shook his head, "No, you didn't. No matter what, you're a fellow engine. Unless you've been getting other engines scrapped, I have no right to say such things."

Diesel shifted uncomfortably, "I can honestly say I have not. In any case, it is no worse than anything my siblings have said."

Somehow the large engine only looked more guilty upon hearing that.

 "As I was saying before, "The Toryreck quarry is sending their shunter to take over pilot duties here," Thomas said, "if you agree, you'll be taking over their duties on my line.  You will be shunting the quarry's trucks and running them down to the junction. Sometimes when we are busy you will take them to Knapford Harbor. Do you accept?"

A second chance on Sodor? On a line where no one knew him?

"Please."

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 11-Exhausted

Traintober 2023

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Day 11 Roundhouse

Exhausted

A Follow up to Day 5-Down a Well

It would take weeks to permanently repair the turntable. Engines from all the other lines had been pulled to cover for the engines trapped in the roundhouse. Thomas and Edward had handled the morning express, and the return trip before Edward had to return for his Branchline. Molly had replaced Edward, but Thomas had not been so lucky. The sun was almost to the horizon when he exhaustedly rolled to the roundhouse to retrieve Gordon.

Workers had built a temporary track across the turntable well from Gordon's berth to the other side. Thomas rolled carefully across the makeshift embankment, coupling to Gordon.

James eyed the construction dubiously, "are we certain that will hold Gordon?"

The pacific swung his gaze to glare at the red mogul, who hastily continued, "I mean, I would be hesitant to trust it with my weight, and he's a larger engine than I am."

"It will hold," Charles Hatt reassured. "It wouldn't hold up to multiple crossings, but it's more than stable enough to get him out of the shed."

Mr.Smith looked skeptical, "and if it collapses."

"Then I'll drag him out," Thomas said resolutely.

Gordon raised an eyebrow, "you are certain that you could?"

Thomas's glare revealed just how exhausted he was, "if the other option is hauling the express, then yes, even if I burst a cylinder trying."

"Come now." Gordon admonished, "Pulling the express isn't that bad."

"One round trip is equal to what I do some days!" Thomas snapped. "I've made five round trips today, and I won't make a bloody 'nother!" Thomas's shout rang out through the yard, many workers stopping to stare at the panting tank engine.

James frowned, "but you managed last time?"

"Last time we ran a reduced schedule," Thomas said flatly, still simmering with stress. "We also were only covering for three engines, not all of Tidmouth."

"How bad is it?" Jinx asked quietly.

Thomas winced, "They're having to triple bead some trains bc we just don't have the mainline engines to spare." He shook his head, the Other Railway has loaned us what they can spare, but on such short notice..."

The workmen signaled ready, but before Thomas's crew could reach for the controls, Gordon rolled forward, gently pushing Thomas back across the well.

"It seems we do not have time to waste then. What trains are going to Barrow besides the express?"

Thomas considered for a moment, " the mail train." He answered.

"Very well, attach it to the express."

"Don't be daft," James snapped. "The express is enough on its own."

"Perhaps for you."

James spluttered as Gordon turned back to Thomas, "Can you have it ready in time?"

"And here I thought I had escaped pilot duties," but Gordon could see the determination in the former pilot's eyes.

***

From dusk to dawn, Gordon ran. Expresses, mails, and goods trains he only stopped long enough to collect his next train or to refuel. The rails sang as he raced across the island, speed restrictions lifted to allow the line's flagship engine every chance to catch the railway back up. News quickly spread among the rolling stock, coaches came quietly even as he set new timings for the express. The trucks, speed demons they were, cheered when he backed down onto them.

Whenever he pulled back into or left Tidmouth he would see Little Thomas racing throughout the yard.

Loathe as he was to admit it, Thomas was the best pilot the island had seen as long as Gordon had been on the railway. Percy had taken one look at his predecessor speeding through the sidings and volunteered to help at the docks. He wanted nothing to do with all that. 

By the time Gordon returned with the Midnight Express, James was free of the sheds. His jubilation at being free was cut short as he was immediately given a long-stopping goods.

As Gordon raced off with the Flying Kipper at dawn, he heard Jinx's triumphant whistle as she left the sheds.

When darkness fell the following night, an exhausted but victorious Gordon pulled into Tidmouth. More engines had arrived from the other railway, and now he could rest. There wasn't enough room in the secondary sheds for all the engines, so he was being sent to the old Knapford sheds. Poor Thomas looked asleep on his wheels, so Gordon had simply coupled up and pulled him to Knapford with him. Thomas had been running nonstop for nearly two full days, someone else could handle the shunting.

As they pulled into Knapford yard, a newly repaired Henry raced past with a fast goods, whistling in greeting. Good, the express was covered. 

One of the coffee pots helped shunt Thomas into the sheds as Gordon backed himself into his own berth. It was a cramped space, and Thomas was not a quiet sleeper, but Gordon was reminded of earlier days, back when the No.1 was just a long-tongue pilot. Exhausted but content Gordon fell fast asleep.