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Science Fiction Fan, v. 5, issue 9, whole 56, April 1941
Page 4
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4 FAN face in time to save myself from being cut and burnt by the small hot cinders, and after several violent snorts the fire box settled down to an occasional hot particle shooting back like a tracer slug from a machine gun. The train picked up speed surprisingly fast and soon she was rocking back and forth none too gently. With my arm shielding my head I went forward slowly bucking the wind. Swaying with the rocking of the train and bursts of wind I half ran, occasionally stooping to regain my balance. Before each gap between cars I'd pause, make sure of my footing then jump. Landing on my feet I'd fall to my knees and grasp the boards then regain my stooped position slowly. Finally I reached the front of the first car just behind the other two bos ['30s slang for "fellows"] and climbed down to the coupling while waiting for them to get across. For the first time I missed Wiggins and so climbed back to the top of the front car. Not seeing him, and after observing the position where the guys had crawled, I decided to go back. where they were on top of the water storage part of the tender was the dirtiest and hottest looking place I could conceive of at the time. They both had caps and consequently their heads were protected to a degree, and for some reason the place didn't appeal to me a bit so I turned back. The train by now had built up considerable speed and I readily saw that going back was not going to be easy or safe. Crawling on hands and knees I traversed the length of the car. About that time I was feeling pretty miserable, my hands and knees were sore, my eyes had collected even more cinders, and a decidedly cold wind was shreiking through my clothes. The train was not rocking now, it was pitching violently and unpredicably as though it were something alive trying to throw me off. I
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4 FAN face in time to save myself from being cut and burnt by the small hot cinders, and after several violent snorts the fire box settled down to an occasional hot particle shooting back like a tracer slug from a machine gun. The train picked up speed surprisingly fast and soon she was rocking back and forth none too gently. With my arm shielding my head I went forward slowly bucking the wind. Swaying with the rocking of the train and bursts of wind I half ran, occasionally stooping to regain my balance. Before each gap between cars I'd pause, make sure of my footing then jump. Landing on my feet I'd fall to my knees and grasp the boards then regain my stooped position slowly. Finally I reached the front of the first car just behind the other two bos ['30s slang for "fellows"] and climbed down to the coupling while waiting for them to get across. For the first time I missed Wiggins and so climbed back to the top of the front car. Not seeing him, and after observing the position where the guys had crawled, I decided to go back. where they were on top of the water storage part of the tender was the dirtiest and hottest looking place I could conceive of at the time. They both had caps and consequently their heads were protected to a degree, and for some reason the place didn't appeal to me a bit so I turned back. The train by now had built up considerable speed and I readily saw that going back was not going to be easy or safe. Crawling on hands and knees I traversed the length of the car. About that time I was feeling pretty miserable, my hands and knees were sore, my eyes had collected even more cinders, and a decidedly cold wind was shreiking through my clothes. The train was not rocking now, it was pitching violently and unpredicably as though it were something alive trying to throw me off. I
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