"Hawkins, I decline to be converted into stew simply to save your
vanity. He----"
"Hey!" shouted Hawkins, dancing away from his lever into a corner of
the car and regarding the iron plate with round eyes.
"What is it, now?" I asked breathlessly.
A queer, roaring noise was coming from somewhere. The Hydro-Vapor
affair executed a series of blood-curdling shakes. From the edges
of the plate the steam hissed spitefully and with new vigor.
"That--that jackass of an engineer!" Hawkins sputtered. "He's sending
too much steam!"
For a moment I didn't quite catch the significance; then I faltered
with sudden weakness:
"Hawkins, you said that this plate corresponded to the cylinder-head
of an engine? Then the tube beneath us is full of steam?"
"Yes, yes!"
"And if we get too much steam--as we seem to be getting it--will the
plate blow off?"
"Yes--no--yes--no, of course not," answered Hawkins faintly. "It's
bolted down with----"
"But if it should," I said, dashing the streaming perspiration from my
eyes for another look at the accursed plate.
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