# The Purple Pennant/Chapter 11

AFTER that they listened cautiously, but heard only the soft sizzling of the engine which had a contented sound as though the Flying Juggernaut was quite as rejoiced at the successful outcome of the venture as they were! More coal was put on, the grate was raked and Lanny contentedly announced that there was a sixty-pound head of steam on. By this time the field was bathed in moonlight save where the stands cast their black shadows, and the task remaining could not fail for lack of light. Forward moved the Juggernaut and there began the work of smoothing out the inequalities of Brent Field. Perhaps had Lanny realized the size of the task he would never have ventured on it. Back and forth, commencing at the infield end, rumbled and clanked the roller, each time covering some four feet of sward and gravel. An hour passed and they were still only as far as first and third base. Gordon voiced doubts.
​"At this rate, Lanny, we won't reach the fence back there before breakfast time. Can't you make her go any faster?"
"No, I can't," replied the engineer shortly, "and if you don't like the way I'm doing this suppose you take a whack at it yourself."
"No, thanks. I'd probably run her right through the stand over there. I'm not criticising your handling of the thing, Lanny, but it's getting a bit chilly and I'm sleepy and——"
"Go on home then. I guess I can do this all right alone."
"Well, don't be grouchy," said Way. "After all, you're the only one of us who's getting any fun out of it. Just walking back and forth like this isn't awfully exciting. Gee, I wish I had my sweater!"
"Tell you what," said Morris. "I'll beat it down town and get some hot coffee!"
"Oh, noble youth!" applauded Gordon. "Get a gallon of it, Morris! And some sandwiches——"
"Or hot-dogs," interpolated Way.
"With plenty of mustard!"
"Who's got any money? I don't think I've got more than fifteen or twenty cents. Dig down, fellows."
They "dug" and a minute later Morris was on ​his way with the sufficient sum of eighty cents jingling in his pocket. Cheered by the anticipation of hot coffee and food, the others were restored to good humor. Lanny said he guessed the old concern would get along just as fast if they all got on it. They tried it and could see no difference in the rate of progress, and being near the boiler was a lot warmer than walking along in the little breeze that had come up with the moon. At Gordon's suggestion, Lanny instructed him in running the machine and, after a few trips back and forth, he took Lanny's place at the throttle while the latter was glad to get down and stretch his legs. They completed the diamond and started on the outfield. Lanny declared that the work was a huge success, that the ground where they had rolled was as hard and level as a billiard table.
"Of course," he added, "it would be a lot better if we could go over it two or three times."
"Maybe," said Gordon hurriedly, "but we're not going over it two or three times, you simple idiot! Once is enough. My folks hate to have me late for breakfast!"
"One good thing," said Way, "is that to-morrow—no, to-day—is Sunday and we have breakfast later."
"So do we," replied Gordon, "but I'm wondering ​if I can sneak in without being caught. Wish I'd thought to unlock the porch window. I supposed we'd be all done this by twelve!"
"If we get it done by four we'll be lucky, I guess," said Lanny. "There comes Morris."
"I could only get a quart," panted Morris as he came up. "The chap in the lunch wagon was afraid he'd run short if he gave me any more. Here are some paper cups; got those at the drug store. And here's your grub; eight ham and three hot-dog sandwiches."
"Three?" ejaculated Gordon.
"Yes, I ate one on the way. Stop your old push-cart till we feed."
"Better keep her going," said Lanny. "We can eat en voyage."
"Didn't get any of that," replied Morris flippantly. "They were all out of it. Hold your cup, Way. Is it hot? I came back as fast as I could, but——"
"Don't you worry," sputtered Way. "It's hot enough to scald you. Good, too! M-mm!"
For several minutes conversation ceased and only the rumble and clank of the roller broke the silence. Then, when the last crumb was gone and the paper cups had been added to the flames, there were four contented grunts. "That's better," said Lanny. ​"I'm good for all night now. Let me have her, Gordon."
"Wait a bit. I'm having too good a time. What time is it?"
"About quarter to one," answered Way, studying the face of his watch in the moonlight.
"That's not so bad. How much more have we got, Lanny?"
"I'd say we'd done just about half," was the reply. "Better stop her and coal up a little."
"No stops this trip," answered Gordon. "Coal ahead. I'll get over here."
"What's the matter with letting me work her a bit?" asked Morris, when the door was shut again. "Seeing that I saved your lives——"
"Morris, old pal," replied Gordon, gravely, "this requires science and experience. I'd let you take her in a minute, but if anything happened to her I'd be held responsible. You can be fireman, though, and shovel coal."
"Next time you can get your own coffee," grumbled Morris. "I had just enough money, by the way, to pay the lunch wagon chap, but I had to charge the drinking cups to you, Gordon."
"That's more than I could do at Castle's," laughed Gordon. "Whoa! Gee, I didn't know that track was so close!"
​"Get out of there before you go through the fence," said Lanny, pushing him aside. "Do you suppose we'd ought to roll the track, too, fellows?"
A chorus of "No's" answered him. "Wouldn't do the least bit of good," added Way. "The track's in rotten shape anyhow. I don't see why we have to have the old thing. It's only in the way. If you have to go back for a long fly it's a safe bet you fall over the rim. What we ought to do is sod it over and——"
"Tell that to Guy Felker," advised Gordon. "Have you done any work with the team yet, Lanny?"
"I've had a couple of trials just to see what I could do. Guy is after me to give him three afternoons a week. I suppose I'll have to pretty soon."
"Oh, bother the Track Team," said Way. "It won't amount to anything and you'll lose baseball practice. Cut it out this year, Lanny."
"Not much! If it came to a show-down I'd rather run the hundred and two-twenty than play ball. And don't you be mistaken about the team being no good. We're going to have a mighty good team this year and we're going to simply run away from Springdale. You wait and see."
"What of it if we do?" grumbled Way. "Who cares?"
​"Most everyone except you, you old pudding-head," responded Gordon. "Want me to take her awhile now, Lanny?"
"No, thank you kindly. Guy's having a pretty hard time to get fellows interested in the track, and that's a fact, but he's going to win out all right. Don't go around talking like that, Way, because it isn't fair. Just because you don't care for track sports, you needn't discourage other fellows."
"Oh, I haven't said anything to discourage anyone. For that matter, if Guy wants to get a team together I wish him luck. But I don't think there's room for football and baseball and track, too. We ought to—to concentrate."
"Rot! Let's beat Springdale at every old thing we can. Them's my sentiments," announced Morris. "If we could do 'em up at tiddley-winks I'd be in favor of starting a team!"
"And I suppose you'd play left wink on it," laughed Way.
It was well after three o'clock before the Flying Juggernaut completed her last trip across the field and the moon was well down toward the west. Four very tired boys—and sleepy, too, now that the effects of the coffee were working off—rolled across to the gate, unbarred it, rolled through, closed it ​behind them, and set off again along Common Street. Somehow they cared less about discovery now and didn't even take the trouble to lower their voices as they rumbled past the darkened houses. Morris announced that they had made a mistake in the name of the steam roller; that its right name was "Reverberating Reginald." The others were too sleepy to argue about it, however.
Gordon, who had taken Lanny's place at the wheel, turned into the cross street and headed Reginald toward his berth. They didn't take the precaution to send scouters ahead now, and perhaps it wasn't worth while since the street lay plainly before them for several blocks. And perhaps what happened would have happened just the same. Lanny always insisted that it wouldn't, but never could prove his point. At all events, what did happen was this:
Just as they had trundled over the crossing at Main Street a voice reached them above the noise of the roller and a figure suddenly stepped into the road a few yards ahead. One very startled glance at the figure was sufficient. With a fine unanimity four forms detached themselves from the sheltering gloom of the steam roller and fled back along the road. Possibly the policeman was so surprised at the sudden result of his challenge that pursuit did ​not occur to him, or, possibly, the continued stately advance of the steam roller in his direction disconcerted him. At all events the boys became mere flying shapes in the distance before the officer took action. When he did he stepped nimbly out of the path of the roller and remarked stentoriously as it rumbled by:
"Hi, there! What's this? Where you goin' with that roller, hey?"
As there was no response he went after it, discovering to his surprise that the reason he had received no reply was that there was no one there to offer it! What occurred subsequently would have hugely diverted a spectator had there been one, which there wasn't. On and on went the roller, moving further and further toward the sidewalk, and on and on trotted the policeman, making ineffectual efforts to board it. He had a very healthy respect for engines and wasn't at all certain that this one might not resent his company. At last, however, desperation gave him courage and he stumbled onto the platform and began to pull, push or twist every movable thing he could lay hands on. The results were disconcerting. A cloud of white steam burst forth from somewhere with an alarming rush and hiss, a shrill, excruciating whistle shattered the night and a tiny stream of very hot ​water sprayed down his sleeve! But the roller kept right on rolling, majestically, remorselessly!
The policeman gave up in despair and rapped loudly with his club for assistance. At that moment the roller, heedless of his appeal, reached the intersection of Lafayette Street and, no longer restrained by the curbing against which it had been grinding, angled purposefully across and collided violently with a lamp-post. The lamp-post gave appreciably under the unexpected assault and the light flared wildly and expired. The steam roller, although its further progress was barred, kept on revolving its big wheels and the policeman, picking himself up, rescued his helmet from the coal-box and hurried from the scene.