No More Learning

. . . I tell you what you could do for me, though, and put me under an
everlasting obligation. Let me come into the bogie truck of the train.
There is a fore-truck, isn't there? "

"Yes. How d'you know? "

"I've been in an armoured train before. Only let me see--hear some
of the fun I mean, and I'll be grateful. I go at my own risk as a
non-combatant. "

The young man thought for a minute. "All right," he said. "We're
supposed to be an empty train, and there's no one to blow me up at the
other end. "

George and a horde of yelling amateur assistants had loaded up the
mules, and the narrow-gauge armoured train, plated with three-eighths
inch boiler-plate till it looked like one long coffin, stood ready to
start.
Two bogie trucks running before the locomotive were completely covered
in with plating, except that the leading one was pierced in front for
the muzzle of a machine-gun, and the second at either side for lateral
fire.

The trucks together made one long iron-vaulted chamber in which a score
of artillerymen were rioting.

"Whitechapel--last train! Ah, I see yer kissin' in the first class
there! " somebody shouted, just as Dick was clamouring into the forward
truck.

"Lordy! 'Ere's a real live passenger for the Kew, Tanai, Acton, and
Ealin' train. Echo, sir. Speshul edition! Star, sir. "--"Shall I get you
a foot-warmer? " said another.

"Thanks. I'll pay my footing," said Dick, and relations of the most
amiable were established ere silence came with the arrival of the
subaltern, and the train jolted out over the rough track.

"This is an immense improvement on shooting the unimpressionable Fuzzy
in the open," said Dick, from his place in the corner.

"Oh, but he's still unimpressed.