Donald and the Breakaways

The Fat Controller stared blankly. "Did you say two engines, Inspector?"

"Yes, Sir," replied the Inspector. "They've - err - lost their numbers, Sir."

"Indeed!" thundered The Fat Controller. "We'll see about that!"

The island of Sodor was busier than ever, and the engines felt rushed off their wheels. The Fat Controller arranged for an engine from Scotland to assist with goods work. It was most surprising then when he found two engines waiting in the Yard.

"Good day," he muttered.

"Good day to you, Sir," they replied in unison.

"I hear you've lost your numbers."

"Aye, Sir," they said. "They slipped off without warning."

"Accidentally on purpose I imagine," replied The Fat Controller darkly.

"Sir!" cried the engines. "Ye would'ne be suggesting we…"

"What are your names?" he demanded impatiently.

"Donald and Douggie, Sir."

"Excellent," said The Fat Controller. "I will confirm with your Controller."

"He'll be no help to ye, Sir. We gave ourselves name when we lost our numbers."

"One of you," said The Fat Controller, "is playing truant. I shall find out who, and send him away." He turned on his heel. "Inspector," he said, "give these engines numbers and put them to work."

The engines soon dawned new numbers: Donald was 9, and Douglas 10. They went to work with Duck, shunting trucks and coaches in the Yard.

"We like it fine here," they beamed.

"That's good," smiled Duck, "but take my tip: keep an eye on those trucks. They'll make mischief any chance they get."

"Dinna fash yerself," chuckled Donald. "It's easy."

Of course, the trucks heard this, and began plotting their tricks. "We won't be pushed round by old-fashioned steam kettles." Of course, they should have known better, but trucks rarely do.

Later, Donald took empty trucks to the end of the line before bringing loaded ones back. The empties had told the loaded ones all about the twins gloating.

The journey began well enough, but soon, trouble arose. Brakes began slipping on, and one truck ran a hot axle box. Donald had to shunt it off the train. Each delay made him crosser and crosser.

"Stupid things!" he growled.

"What does he know?" tittered the trucks. "An old kettle like him is no patch on us!"

Later, Donald stopped just before Gordon's hill so the Guard could tend to the wagon brakes. When all was ready, he started with a will. The resulting jerk broke and old coupling; the last ten trucks and the brake van came loose.

Feeling the snap, Donald's Driver looked back. Trailing behind, but gathering speed on the hill, he saw the remainder of the train. "We've got to keep ahead of them, Donald!" he shouted. "I just hope there's nothing at the platform at Edward's station."

"But we're meant to stop there and leave some of these trucks," replied Donald.

"If those devils you call trucks catch us," remarked the Fireman grimly, "there'll be nothing for us to leave; they'll knock us off the rails!"

"Well, what are we waiting for?" cried Donald, and he surged forward as his Driver blew open the regulator.

Donald raced down the line. The Guard, braking in his van, could only do so much. The trucks were getting closer and closer.

Edward's station loomed in the distance. Thankfully, their line was clear. Whistling frantically, Donald rushed passed the signal-box whistling like a banshee, with the trucks screaming in fright behind him.

The Signalman sent a warning down the line; all traffic halted. Then came the trucks. To the relief of the Signalman, they had slowed to a crawl, stopping just before his box. They were very relieved indeed.

When he was sure it was safe, Donald reversed back to Edward's station. He bumped the trucks fiercely when he got there.

"Will there be any further trouble?" he growled. The trucks had scared even themselves. They were speechless.

Another voice spoke in their place. "I should hope not." Donald jumped. It was The Fat Controller. "I suspect the whole island knows of your escapades with the noise you were making."

"S- Sir," stammered Donald. "I- I…"

"I appreciate your efforts to warn of the danger," interrupted The Fat Controller, "but I do have to wonder how that coupling broke to begin with; judging by how I saw you handling those trucks," he trailed off sternly.

"To add to that, you have caused considerable delays down the line. This won't do at all. I'd advise you to be more cautious in future, number 9." The Fat Controller walked to the station without another word.

His Driver and Firemen secured the trucks, and Donald set off once more, rather anxious over The Fat Controller's remarks.