Diesel didn’t much like working in the shunting yard these days. Half the sidings had sad steam engines sitting idle in them. They made him uncomfortable with their long faces and longing looks. When he rolled by to arrange his trucks, they would try to talk to him and ask about the goings on at the station.

“I can’t sit around here with you,” he’d say snidely. “I have work to do.”

He did have work to do, but he also didn’t want any other diesels to see him talking to the steam engines. The diesels were quite proud of how well they were replacing steam. When they worked in the Yard, most of them would leer and jeer and honk their horns at the steam engines. Steam, they said, was going to be abolished soon. Diesel didn’t know what “abolished” meant exactly, but he could guess that the steam engines would all be scrapped because of it.

One night, he was putting some trucks in order for the next day when he heard something along the track out of the Yard. (more…)

Clang!

Duck winced as the rock flew up past his face and struck his funnel at an angle. This wasn’t an altogether unusual occurrence, except this was the first time he felt cool air whistle through to the inside afterwards.

“Oh dear,” he said.

“That didn’t sound good,” said his Driver.

“It doesn’t feel good,” admitted Duck.

“We’ll take a look at it once we get back to the Shed.”

Duck hoped it wasn’t anything serious. The Summer holiday makers would be arriving soon, and the Little Western couldn’t afford to be behind schedule.
(more…)

The rest of the mountain engines teased Lord Harry all night for coming off the rails and jamming the points.

“Old Harry,” chuckled Culdee, “can stand on the points twice as fast as any of the rest of us.”

“And he does it in perfect safety!” added Wilfred. “In fact, the whole line is perfectly safe if no one else can move on it either.”

None of them thought it was funny when they came back from their jobs the next day. While they were out, the Manager had sent workmen to move Lord Harry to the back of the Shed and to take his name away.

Even King Godred had been allowed to keep his name. The other engines were worried for No. 6.
(more…)

Duke had been surrounded by fitters and people from the Railway Board all morning. He was tired of being inside.

“My pistons are stiff,” he groused. “I’ve seen enough of the indoors for a lifetime. I want to feel the sun on my running boards.”

“We can let you into the Yard,” agreed his Driver. “But you’ll have to stay put while we finish the safety checks. Can’t have you breaking down tomorrow on your big day.”

“What cheek!” scoffed Duke. “Are all you Drivers so impertinent these days?” But he was pleased when they released his brakes and let him steam forward out of the Shed.

The Yard was unusually crowded. Most of the little engines had been pulled from duty early for cleanup and general maintenance ahead of tomorrow’s celebrations. Skarloey, Rheneas, Peter Sam, and Sir Handel were happy to see Duke out and about.
(more…)

It was to be the Storybook Festival on the Skarloey Railway. People from near and far would come to admire the engines and hear the stories that had been written about them. All the little engines had received new coats of paint for the occasion, and were quite excited.

Rheneas gave Duncan a bump on accident as he was shunting his trucks into place.

“Mind the paint!” hissed Duncan. “I’ll no’ have it scratched before the Festival. Not that I expect anyone will notice if it is,” he huffed. “Every year they come to see the Little Old Engines, not poor Duncan, no sir. All the work I do, and none of the credit–”

Skarloey was sitting at the other platform watching them. He laughed. “Now, now. I don’t think The Thin Controller would be very happy if his favourite engine didn’t look his best,” he said, and he winked at Rheneas, like this.
(more…)