Whenever Skarloey and Ocellus travelled down the tracks of the narrow gauge railway, they always knew what to look for. They knew each and every sight and sound along the railway, and enjoyed spotting them as the line would wind its happy way across the landscape, and this made them very happy indeed. The line was currently very busy, as Peter Sam had just returned to service, and all three of the line's steam engines were in use for every conceivable working, these either being trains jammed with tourists and locals, or freight coming down from the quarries to be shipped on the mainline to places far away.
On the way down the line one fair summer's morning, the pair met Rusty, who was parked in a siding nearby. Behind was a track inspection train, loaded with sleepers, new rails, and ballast. Sandbar was hard at work relaying another siding, removing the track keys and releasing the rails from their supports, then putting them in a wagon so that the old rails could be taken away, and new ones installed. Skarloey whistled to let them know they were there.
"Hi Rusty!" the tank engine called. "I would like to thank you again for all the repair work you have done. You have done a splendid job; if I didn't know all these familiar faces and places, I would think I was on a different railway altogether!"
Sandbar called over. "It was the manager's idea, Mr... Percival? Is that his name?"
"Yes indeed!" Rusty added, a smile on his face. "He said, 'Rusty, Sandbar, let's mend all the track. We'll do it so well, that Skarloey won't know where he is'! And we did... and you didn't if you know what I mean."
Skarloey liked those two, as they were very hard workers. Ocellus, naturally enough, liked Sandbar, as he was so friendly. Not surprisingly, this had started all sort of rumours. That night, Sandbar poured over a map of the line, whilst Rusty and Skarloey sat nearby. Ocellus was oiling him down.
"There's just one bit we haven't fixed yet," Sandbar said, circling a part of the map. "There's a section of dodgy track just south of Cross-y-Cuirn that needs repairs, but we haven't had time, what with the summer season starting."
"An engine could come off there if a bit careless," Rusty sighed, as a certain tank engine came to mind.
"Duncan?" Ocellus suggested.
"I should hate to see his passengers hurt," Skarloey said sadly. "Besides, his driver is reckless."
"What was that about me?" asked a voice, as Duncan was backed into the depot. Smoulder hopped off and walked right up to Skarloey.
Nobody spoke. "I'm a plain speakin' engine and I believe in plain' speakin'. Speak up!" Duncan demanded.
"There's some awkward track at the first station. Be careful not to come off there!" Rusty told him.
Duncan snorted. "I'll do as I please. I don't need some smelly diesel or a beach dweller to order me aboot!"
Ocellus was shocked. "You take that back!"
Smoulder was equally dimissive of her. "I've got other things to do," she said, as she walked away. "Have fun with your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend!" Ocellus exclaimed, her face going red.
"Ocellus and Sandbar, sat beneath a tree, K- I- S- S- I- N-"
"SHUT UP!"
The next day, Duncan was in a similarly foul mood to the previous day. He clattered about the yard and smacked into the coaches with a bang.
"Duncan! that hurt!" shouted Agnes.
"If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it," Duncan snapped. "Now follow along and keep quiet!" And off he went up the line.
"Some people or coaches are just never happy," Smoulder sighed. "Let's get our passengers, and get going." At the station, James and Rarity were sitting there, as they had arrived a few minutes earlier, and the platform was already crowded with passengers.
"You're late!" James snapped. "This railway must run to absolute time, or else people complain and they stop travelling!"
"Yes," Rarity sighed. "And they travel about the island on those horrible smelly busses, which clog up the country lanes and produce a smell!"
"OI!" shouted a passing double decker. "Watch your language!"
"Whoever said that railways should run to absolute time has clearly never told ScotRail," Duncan grumbled. "It's that smelly diesel's fault! He tries to tell me how to do his job, and then leaves me and Smoulder to find our own coaches!"
"Those two are lazy, that's the fact of it," Smoulder sighed, casually emptying the contents of the teapot in the cab onto the track.
Rarity was most horrified at this act. "Smoulder!" she exclaimed, her hands in the air in shock. "Don't you know that's a horrible waste of hot water?"
"Duncan's got plenty," Smoulder replied, shrugging.
"Oh, I know plenty about diesels," James said. "One, a Class 08, crept into our yard once and tried to order us about. But I sent him packing!"
Duncan was impressed, but had no idea that James was actually lying. It was Sir Toppham Hatt who had sent that diesel packing, and James had actually fallen for his trap. But still, James' words echoed through his mind as he passed a George England saddle tank, whom he honestly couldn't remember being in the shed. He dismissed this thought, and set off.
"Send him packing! Send him packing!" Duncan chanted. He produced an absolute din as he stormed the first hill, not having been built to pull these sorts of passenger trains, and swayed about as he succesfully cleared it.
"Yeah! Rock on!" Smoulder called. "Keep it up, Duncan!"
But this was the worst possible choice of words, as they approached the first station. "Nothin's happened! Nothin's happened! Silly old diesel, clever me!" And he suddenly began to rock about, swaying violently on the track as his cylinder flew back and forth.
"Hey! Take it easy!" Smoulder shouted. She reduced the regulator, but it was too late. There was an earsplitting crash, and the engine left the rails and landed in the ballast. Luckily, nothing else derailed, but Duncan lay there looking confused.
"Sleepers and ballast! I'm off!" And he was. Smoulder looked about her in annoyance.
"Stupid track maintenance department!" she shouted, kicking a rock as she did so. "You'd think they'd actually bother to fix the track, but no, they had to leave a massive hole in it!"
"Well, I warned him," said Rusty, grumpily, as he sat in the yard. "But would he listen? No." And he went into a bad impression of a Scottish accent. "Noo thank ye, Rusty, I don't need a smelly diesel to tell mee what to doo and order me aboot!"
"Come on Rusty!" Sandbar begged. "Start up, will you?"
"No!" Rusty exclaimed. "He can sit there forever, and so can Smoulder. It'll teach her for being rude to you and Ocellus."
Skarloey could not believe what he was hearing. "I'm ashamed that you could even contemplate doing such a thing, Rusty!" he said. "Think of Duncan's passengers! What are they going to do if the line's blocked?"
Rusty looked shocked. "Oh," he said. "I'd forgotten about them." And his engine roared into life. Sandbar hopped into his cab, depressed the clutch, selected 1st gear, and they were away.
When they got to the crash site, they saw Duncan sitting there between the rails, unable to rock and roll. Duncan was speaking as usual, but he wasn't blaming other people.
"Everybody will see how silly I am," he said sadly. "Maybe rocking and rolling isn't a good idea."
Meanwhile, Smoulder had got a length of rail, and was trying to lever Duncan back onto the track. "This is hopeless!" she cried. "You're too heavy for me to lift!"
Suddenly, another pair of hands appeared on the rail. Smoulder looked back and saw Sandbar was helping her. "Need a hand?" he asked.
"After what I said to you and Ocellus?" she asked.
"Eh, all in the past now," Sandbar answered. "Besides, I do kinda like her."
Together, they levered Duncan back onto the rails, and the train went on, with no rocking and rolling. Duncan was especially careful as he ran along, and when he and Smoulder returned to the shed, both looked very sad.
"Hey, Rusty," Duncan said. "Thanks for the help. Sorry for being rude to ye."
"Hey, it's alright," Rusty replied.
"You're the nicest diesel I know," Duncan replied. "Shall we be friends?"
"Of course," Rusty replied. "Let's mend that bad bit of rail tomorrow."