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way up calculating fuel consumption for Larry on the White River-Berlin run. We met Hueghens, trainmaster, en route. He was going up to Augusta to continue following Tarzan, Jr. He's an elderly, florid faced rather priggish looking old boy but he loves to drink and we spent until midnight in the Augusta House cocktail lounge drinking scotch and soda. He proved to be a rather interesting old fellow and he grew on me. He thought the locomotive too slow for Lewiston although they finished a half hour early - "of course it was a light day" - the old, old story you hear every time. The story is getting so familiar, I almost smile every time I hear it. Being in Maine everything closed tight at midnight and we retired, a good thing. Neal and I had a room together with twin beds and he went to sleep promptly. I had had three cups of coffee during the morning and some tea for supper, and between all that and Neal's snoring, I simply couldn't get to sleep. I don't think I really got off until about 3:30 and we had put in a call for 6 AM!

Portland, Me.,
March 7, 1940.

Down at the freight yard at 7 AM, raining and very sloppy and slushy. Tarzan, Jr. was starting out. Bill Dutton at the throttle, a moody, gaunt fireman slouched in the other corner. It was good to see Andy Johnson again - he almost had pneumonia but is 100% again. Frank McCrum, M.E.C. road foreman, a tall, serious faced man, was also on deck. The ground crew was a middle aged bunch, and one in particular was a tall, hatchet faced individual with a twinkle in his eye who was constantly chewing tobacco and his only criticism of the locomotive