All at once Teddy, who was now inside the car, turned a full head
of steam through the hose pipe. There being one hundred and
forty pounds of steam on the boiler something happened.
The full force of the steam shot into the bottom of the can over
which Mr. Snowden was bending. The contents of that can leaped
up into the air, water, flour, bluestone and all, and for the
next few seconds Manager Snowden was the central figure in the
little drama. It rained uncooked paste for nearly half a minute.
Such of it as had not smitten him squarely in the face went up in
the air and then came down, showering on his head.
The force of the miniature explosion had bowled the manager over.
Choking, sputtering, blinded for the moment by the stuff that had
got into his eyes, he wallowed in the dust by the side of
the car.
Teddy shut off the steam, went out on the platform and sat down.
"What happened?" he demanded innocently. Perhaps he did not know
and perhaps he did.
Mr. Snowden did not answer, for the very good reason that he
could not. His clothes were ruined.
"It looks like a storm," muttered the lad. In this he was
not mistaken.
A happy thought came to him. Springing up he hurried into the
car, and, drawing a pail of water from the tap, ran out with it.
Mr. Snowden had just scrambled to his feet.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92