//------------------------------// // Gallant Old Engine // Story: The Little Lost Engine // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// That night, Scootaloo spoke to Babs very harshly. “I can’t believe you did that, Babs!” she scolded the industrial tank. “Just think of your passengers, whom you might have badly hurt!” “Pah!” Babs laughed. “Passengers just moan all the time and say the railway sucks. I wouldn’t mind if they went tomorrow!” Scootaloo was about to speak, when she was interrupted by an angry outburst from Sweetie Belle. “Take that back!” the small white engine shouted. “Passengers keep us going! They are the sole reason we are not on the scrapheap!” She rolled up to Babs. “I’m going to tell you a story,” she said. “It’s a painful one for me, and it will hurt us both. But you need to hear this.” Babs rolled her eyes. “Just get it over with,” she snorted. Sweetie Belle sighed, as she began her tale. “This story begins in 1902, shortly before I came here, and concerns an old friend of mine, who sadly has long since passed away. Our railway was dying. The engineer desperately tried to keep us going, but the end was almost nigh for us.” “One night, he took the last train of the day, as I had failed due to cracked frames. It was a cold, wet day, and the rails were slippery. But he didn’t stop in the wrong places.” “Really?” Babs asked. “Passengers get annoyed if you stop in the wrong places, as well you know.” “Scootaloo, if I may continue with the story?” “Sure.” “This very day, he was ascending the line next to the moors. The rain lashed down and thunder rolled across the hillside. The causeway was misty and the rails were hopelessly wet. He was pulling a heavy train, 6 coaches in all, and there were even passengers loaded into the guard’s van!” “The run was not fun at all. His wheels slipped as he climbed the hill, and his speed slowed to a crawl. But he didn’t stop. ‘I have to get those passengers to the next station’, he said. He reached the summit, and thought the worst was over.” “But it wasn’t. His motion on the right-hand side locked up completely. There he was, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no engineer to help him. The Guard took a look at the problem. 'We need to get the passengers to the next station’, he said. 'Can you get us there?’” “'I’ll try’, he said, and struggled onward into the mist. He continued on, in spite of the indescribable agony he was in. 'If I fail,' he thought, ‘this line will close!’” “The pain blinded him, and he was too exhausted to keep moving. But move he did, turn after turn, yard after yard, he rolled along, until he pulled into the station at the end of the line.” “'I made it!’ he cried happily. The passengers were very pleased, and told him he was a gallant old engine.” Sweetie Belle looked around, as she had finished her tale. There was not a dry eye in the place. Even Babs looked upset. “Thanks Sweetie,” she said. “I needed that.” “Still gets me, even though I’ve heard that tale many times,” Scootaloo admitted. “Come on, let’s get some sleep, it’s nearly midnight.” The next morning Cheerilee came to visit her engines. “I have some good news!” she said. “Do tell!” asked Diamond. “Apple Bloom has been successfully repaired, and is on her way home. I was also able to purchase a new engine!” The engines were very excited. “Where is she?” asked Snips. “Well, it’s a he,” Cheerilee explained. “His old owner has agreed to help with the railway as well. Would you like to introduce yourself, Mrs Mash?” “Call me Elaina!” a woman with tan skin and brown hair stepped forward, also wearing overalls. “It’s very nice to meet you all!” “Good morning Elaina!” the engines chorused. Elaina looked over. “You can come out, sweetie!” she called. There was a distinct puffing noise, when a tank engine rolled to a stop alongside the shed. The engine was of the same size and shape as Sweetie Belle, but was painted chocolate brown with two tone brown lining. He lacked a nameplate. “Hi,” he said, in a scratchy voice that would have sounded more at home coming out of the mouth of a young child. “My name is Button Mash. I’m 83 years old, and-” He suddenly stopped as he noticed the engine next to him start crying. “What’s wrong?” “I just never thought I’d see you again!” Button’s face lit up. “SWEETIE BELLE!” he cried, “You’re alive!” Elaina smiled. “He never did forget her. On the journey here, we didn’t go a day without him mentioning her.” Truly, it was a happy day at the railway. Two old friends had reunited, Babs had learned her lesson, and they had all been really useful engines.