Will O' the Whistle

by Railroad Brony

The Secret Way

It was in the early hours of the morning that Spark, after giving a secret knock, was admitted into a house near on the south-east side of the Horseshoe River estuary.

“I have a bicycle,” he whispered when the door opened.

“I thought you only found ‘em in museums,” murmured a voice in the darkness.

“Our ancestors must have been tough to ride such a machine,” responded Spark.

“Bring it in,” whispered the householder. “We often have Griffons sneaking through the garden to see what they can confiscate.” Spark lifted the bike over the threshold. The other stallion shut the door and bolted it. They had not met before. Spark knew that his name was Hooves, and that up to the time of the Griffon invasion he had been one of the engineers responsible for working the Horseshoe Tunnel pumps. He noticed a slight Appleachian intonation in the voice of Hooves. “I’ll turn on a light,” the engineer said. “There are no cracks in my shutters.”

He used a lighter and put the flame to the wick of a lamp that in Spark’s eyes, had a very old-fashioned appearance. Electricity was switched on only during working hours. “It’s an old railroad lamp,” said Hooves. “It burns oil. I have plenty of them hidden away.”

Up to the time of the invasion, Equestria’s railroad traffic was mostly confined to freight trains working on the main line. All the routes had been electrified, power being supplied from nuclear power stations. Air travel had assumed such proportions that passenger trains were few. Hooves was a man of middle-age. He looked at the bike with interest. They had not been seen on Equestrian roads for years. Their substitute was the scooter, powered by a long-service battery and completely enclosed in a cover of a transparent plastic.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” Sparks said. “I’m on my way to Appleachia, and we have your name as a transit agent. Will I be able to get across the bridge?” He spoke about the great Horseshoe Bay Bridge that had been opened in 1980.

“I wouldn’t risk it myself,” said Hooves. “Your way across is through the Big Hole.”

“The Big Hole?” echoed Spark.

“The Tunnel,” Hooves replied. “It has always been called the Big Hole by railwaymen.”

Spark knew only a few facts about the Horseshoe Tunnel, which took fourteen years to construct, and was completed in 1886. It had a total length of four and a half miles of which nearly three miles ran under water. Because, near the east bank, there was a depression in the river called the Shoots, where the water was fifty feet deeper than anywhere else, the bore had to descend a hundred and forty feet so as to pass under it without danger of flooding.

Because of this the tunnel was steeply graded. There were long approaches to the portals through deep cuts. In normal times continuous pumping was required to keep the tunnel dry. “The Griffons think the Big Hole is completely flooded,” Hooves added. “but it’s possible to get through. We’d better wait until tomorrow night. I'll come with you.”

“I’m ready to sleep,” Spark replied.

“You must have something to eat before going to bed!” exclaimed Hooves. He moved across the kitchen towards the cupboard. It had a glass door. The cupboard looked bare. Empty shelves could be seen. But Hooves opened the glass door and Spark got a surprise. There was a deep recess in the wall, well stocked with food.

“It’s done with mirrors,” Hooves chuckled. “Plenty of Griffons have peered through the door and gone away thinking the cupboard was empty.”

“You've got plenty of food!” exclaimed Spark.

Hooves winked. “The Griffons had a bit of bad luck,” he said. “One of their barges happened to spring a leak and sink not far away.”

While they were eating, Spark asked Hooves what his job was.
“We’re fixing the tunnel pumps,” Hooves replied gravely. “The work is going on very slowly. A Griffon engineer is in charge, and you know, sometimes I think he must be working from the wrong set of blueprints.” Spark grinned broadly. It was clear what the engineer meant.

Author's Note:

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