ese
inanimate objects, scattered along the line, were so many faithful
friends incapable of deceiving him.

He shared this fetichistic love of the landscape with the love inspired
in him by his engines. Ordinarily he ran two: No. 187 and No. 1,082. He
called the first "Nigger," and the second "Sweetie." Nigger was an
intractable brute, ill-tempered and hard-bitted. When she tackled a hill
she seemed to quiver with pain, and in her iron belly strange
threatening shrieks resounded. She skidded downhill and was hard to get
under control. You would have said some wayward spirit was thrashing
about inside her, eternally rebelling against all government. She was
logy, at times, and hated to start; but once you got her going you had a
proper job to stop her. When she rushed in under the black arch of a
tunnel, her whistle shrieked with ear-splitting alarum, like a man
screeching.

"Sweetie" was a different sort, meek, obedient, strong and good-willed
on an up-grade, cautious and full of reserve on a down, when the
headlong flight of the train had to be checked.

Twice a week, each time that Amadeo started on a run, his wife always
asked him:

"Which machine have you got, to-day?"

If it was "Sweetie," she had nothing to worry about.

"That's all right," she would say. "But the other one! I certainly am
afraid of it. It's bad luck, sure!"

Zureda, however, liked to handle both of them. Sometimes he preferred
one, sometimes the other, according to the state of his nerves. When his
mood was cheerful, he liked "Sweetie" best, because there wasn't much
work about running her. He preferred her, usually, on quiet days, when
the sun was giving the earth a big, warm kiss. Zureda's fireman was a
chap named Pedro; an Andalusian, full of spicy songs and tales. Amadeo
rather liked to hear these, always keeping his eyes fixed on blue
distances that seemed to smile at him. Out ahead, over the boiler, the
rails stretched on and on, shining like silver in the sun. The warm air
blew about Zureda, laden with sweet country smells. Under his feet the
engineer felt the shuddering of "Sweetie," tame, laborious, neither
bucking nor snorting; and at such times, both proud and caressing as if
he loved her, he would murmur:

"Get along with you, my pretty lamb!"

At other times the engineer's full-blooded vigor suffered vague
irritations and capricious rages, unwholesome disturbances of temper
which made him unwilling to talk, and dug still