Free The Mechanical Mind of John Coggin by Elinor Teele

through thisother pipe”—he traced a line that went across the top of the compartment—“and gets put under pressure. That pressure pushes the piston back and forth”—he pointed to something that looked like a toilet plunger—“which cranks the crankshaft”—he moved the screwdriver down to a setup of rods and chains and circles—“which rotates the axle that turns the wheels!”

    He glanced up. Page looked dazed. Boz’s face was as blank as a white page.
    â€œYou don’t get it, do you?”
    Boz shook his head. “Not a pitwit. But that doesn’t matter,” he added, thumping the bench with his fist, “because you do!”
    John bit his lip.
    â€œWell, I know how it works in theory. But I’ve never built anything like this before.”
    â€œBut you’re smart,” Page said. “Look at the box you made for Tiger Lil. You can do anything!”
    John appreciated his sister’s enthusiasm, even if he didn’t quite believe in her judgment.
    â€œAnd we’ll be the magician’s assistants! The procurers of pipes. The collectors of crankshafts.” Boz yanked the curtain from the window above them and waved it over the manual. “Abracadabra, let there be steam!”
    John reached over and slid the manual out from underneath the fabric.
    â€œIt’s not going to be that easy.”
    â€œBut you remember what happens to the heroes in Dad’s stories,” Page prodded him. “It’s never easy.”
    â€œLeap, my dear boy, leap! Look not at the cliff below you but at the sky above.”
    John reexamined the diagram. It would be incredibly satisfying to show Colonel Joe what he was capable of. He tried to imagine the faces of the audience when a steam-driven carriage came chugging across the field. Maybe he could have all the Wayfarers standing on the platform.
    â€œOkay,” he said, putting up his palm to shut Boz’s mouth, “but we’re going to start small. Do what the diagram says. I don’t want things exploding in my face.”
    â€œOf course,” said Boz, seizing hold of the manual. “It will be simple as huckleberry pie!”
    But by early September, John had learned one very important lesson:
    When it came to Boz, nothing was ever simple as huckleberry pie.
    No sooner had John decided to build the Autopsy than Boz had trumpeted the news to the Wayfarers.
    Reactions were mixed. Tiger Lil thought he was brave, the Mimsy Twins thought he was optimistic, and Alligator Dan thought he was delusional. Colonel Joe said nothing—and gave him a starter loan.
    Yet eventually, as John and Boz and Page started to assemble the engine compartment, opinions swung around.Now that the Wayfarers could see a rudimentary boiler and crankshaft taking shape in front of their eyes, some of them began to believe in the Autopsy’s possibilities.
    Unfortunately, that meant they also wanted to be part of it.
    â€œYou should divert some of the steam and stick a pipe organ right here!” Minny pointed to an area on the diagram in front of the engine compartment. “And we can play duets.”
    â€œAdd a springboard on the top,” said Porcine Pierre, “and I’ll teach Frank and Priscilla to do a high dive.”
    â€œIf you can figure out how to harness the smoke from the furnace,” Gentle Giant Georgie noted, “we can have special effects for Tiger Lil’s magic show.”
    John’s response was typical of a new inventor—he attempted to please everyone. But the more he adjusted and fiddled and tweaked, the worse things became. One day the boiler would work, the next night it split. One hour the crankshaft would hum, the next minute it broke. The chains got tangled, the pipes slid sideways, and the piston went phfft . The bills for parts were astronomical.
    Most galling of all, John knew he could do better. With patience, time, and a finer