Django Durango

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.

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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.

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“Diesel told me the silliest story today while I was helping him get his trucks back in order,” said Percy. He backed into the Shed next to Edward. “It was about you,” Percy told him.

“Really?” said Edward.

“Why are you listening to Diesel about anything?” scoffed Henry.

“Because,” said Percy, “Diesel lies and his stories are funny when you know that. Like today, he said that Edward told this story to him, but I know he was lying.”

“I should like to hear this story I told him then,” said Edward.

“Well,” began Percy. “One day, said Diesel, Edward puffed into the docks. Emily and Gordon were there already. Then The Fat Controller arrived too.”

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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.

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One evening, the other mountain engines came into the Shed to find Shane Dooiney already there and looking gloomy. They asked him what was the matter.

“A tooth broke off one of my pinion wheels,” he said sadly, ”and they say they have to replace it.”

“That’s not so bad,” said Patrick. “They know how to mend us at the Steamworks now. You won’t have to go to Switzerland like we used to.” Alaric and Eric agreed reassuringly, but Wilfred, Culdee, and Ernest were more sympathetic.

“Those were Godred’s wheels, weren’t they?” asked Ernest.

“Yes. They say they can’t just weld the tooth back on,” explained Shane Dooiney. “They can’t trust it not to break again. They’re going to give me new wheels instead.”

“When you used to tell me about Godred to scare me,” sniffed Patrick, “he sounded quite silly indeed. You ought to be happy not to have his silly old wheels anymore, Shane.”

“He was silly,” said Culdee, “but our Railway might have closed if not for him.”

“How’s that?” Alaric and Eric were listening raptly too.
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