CHAPTER V
ON THE RAIL
At an early hour the next morning, just before daylight, the conspiratorswere standing on the platform of the Marietta station, awaiting thearrival of their train--the train which they hoped soon to call theirs inreality. They were all in civilian dress; even Walter Jenks had contrivedto discard his uniform of a Confederate officer, regarding it as tooconspicuous, and he was habited in an ill-fitting suit which made him looklike an honest, industrious mechanic.
Andrews was pacing up and down with an anxious, resolute face. He realizedthat the success of the manoeuvre which they were about to execute restedupon his own shoulders, but he had no idea of flinching. "Before night hascome," he was thinking confidently, "we shall be within the lines ofGeneral Mitchell, and soon all America will be ringing with the story ofour dash."
George, no less sanguine, was standing near Watson and Macgreggor, andoccasionally slipping a lump of sugar into the overcoat pocket whichserved as a sort of kennel for the tiny Waggie. There was nothing aboutthe party to attract undue attention. They pretended, for the most part,to be strangers one to another, and, to aid in the deception, they hadbought railroad tickets for different places--for Kingston, Adairsville,Calhoun and other stations to the northward, between Marietta andChattanooga.
Soon the train was sweeping up to the platform. It was a long one, withlocomotive, tender, three baggage cars and a number of passenger cars. Theadventurers clambered on it through various doors, but at last reached thepassenger car nearest to the engine. Here they seated themselves quite asif each man had no knowledge of any one else. In another minute the train,which was well filled, went rolling away from Marietta and along the bendaround the foot of Kenesaw Mountain. "Only eight miles," thought George,"and then----"
The conductor of the train, a young man with a very intelligent face,looked searchingly at the boy as he examined his ticket. "Too young,"George heard him mutter under his breath, as he passed on to the otherpassengers.
A thrill of feverish excitement stirred the lad. "What did he mean by tooyoung?" he asked himself. "Can he possibly have gotten wind of ourexpedition?" But the conductor did not return, and it was not until longafterwards that George was able to understand what was meant by theexpression, "Too young." The man had been warned by the Confederateauthorities that a number of young Southerners who had been conscriptedinto the army were trying to escape from service, and might use the carsfor that purpose. He was ordered, therefore, to arrest any such runawaysthat he might find. When he looked at George it is probable that hethought: "This boy is too young to be a conscript," and he evidently gaveunconscious voice to what was passing through his mind. Fortunatelyenough, he saw nothing suspicious in any of the Northerners.
The train ran rather slowly, so that it was bright daylight before itreached Big Shanty. "Big Shanty; twenty minutes for breakfast!" shoutedthe conductor and the brakemen. George's heart beat so fast that he almostfeared some one would hear it, and ask him what was the matter. The hoarsecries of the employees as they announced the name of the station made himrealize that now, after all these hours of preparation and preliminarydanger, the first act of his drama of war had begun. Every one of hiscompanions experienced the same feeling, but, like him, none had anydesire to draw back.
No sooner had the cars come to a standstill than nearly all thepassengers, excepting the Northerners, quickly left their seats, to repairto the long, low shanty or eating-room from which the station took itsunpoetic name. Then the train hands, including the engineer and fireman,followed the example of the hungry passengers, and hurried off tobreakfast. The engine was deserted. This was even better than theadventurers could have hoped, for they had feared that it might benecessary to overpower the engineer before they could get away on theirrace.
The twenty-one men and the one boy left in the forward passenger carlooked anxiously, guardedly, at one another. More than one felt in hisclothes to make sure that he had his revolver. Andrews left the car forhalf a minute, dropped to the ground, and glanced rapidly up and down thetrack. There was no obstruction visible. Within a stone's throw of him,however, sentries were posted on the outskirts of the Confederate camp. Hescanned the station, which was directly across the track from theencampment, and was glad to see, exactly as he had expected, that it hadno telegraph office from which a dispatch concerning the coming escapademight be sent. Having thus satisfied himself that the coast was clear, andthe time propitious, he reentered the car.
"All right, boys," he said, very calmly (as calmly, indeed, as if he weremerely inviting the men to breakfast), "let us go now!"
The men arose, quietly, as if nothing startling were about to happen, leftthe car, and walked hurriedly to the head of the train. "Each man to hispost," ordered Andrews. "Ready!"
In less time than it takes to write this account the seizure of the trainwas accomplished, in plain view of the puzzled sentries. The two men whowere to act as engineer and assistant engineer clambered into the emptycab of the locomotive, as did also Andrews and Jenks. The latter was to bethe fireman. One of the men uncoupled the passenger cars, so that thestolen train would consist only of the engine, tender, and the threebaggage cars. Into one of these baggage cars the majority of the partyclimbed, shutting the doors at either end after them, while the two menwho were to serve as brakemen stationed themselves upon the roof. Watsonand Macgreggor were in this car, while George, with Waggie in his pocket,was standing in the tender, his handsome face aglow with excitement, andhis eyes sparkling like stars.
"All ready! Go!" cried Andrews. The engineer opened the valve of thelocomotive; the wheels began to revolve; in another second the train wasmoving off towards Chattanooga. The next instant Big Shanty was in anuproar. As he peered over the ledge of the tender, and looked back, Georgesaw the sentries running here and there, as the passengers in thebreakfast-room came swarming out on the platform. There were shouts frommany voices; he even heard the report of several rifles.
But shouts or shots from rifles could not avail now. The engine wasdancing along the track on the road to Chattanooga; Big Shanty was soonmany yards behind. George took Waggie out of his pocket, and held him upin the air by the little fellow's forepaws. "Say good-bye to the Confeds,"he shouted, "for by to-night, Wag, you'll be in the Union lines!" The dogbarked gleefully; and jumped about on the platform of the tender, gladenough to have a little freedom again. Then Waggie was replaced in hismaster's pocket.
Andrews, who was sitting on the right-hand seat of the cab, looked thepicture of delight.
"How was that for a starter?" he cried. "It's a good joke on Watson: hewas so sure the sentries would stop us, and the soldiers didn't realizewhat we were doing until it was too late--for them! Hurrah!"
It was all that the four men in the cab, and that George in the tender,could possibly do to keep their balance. The road-bed was very rough andfull of curves; the country was mountainous, and the track itself was inwretched condition. Yet it was a magnificent sight as "The General," whichwas the name of the engine, careered along through the picturesque countrylike some faithful horse which tries, with all its superb powers ofmuscle, to take its master farther and farther away from a dangerousenemy.
But suddenly the engine began to slacken its speed, and at last came to acomplete standstill. Andrews, who had made his way into the tender, withconsiderable difficulty, in order to speak to George, turned a triflepale.
"What's the matter, Brown?" he shouted to the engineer.
"The fire's nearly out, and there's no steam," was the rejoinder. At thesame moment the men in the baggage car opened the door nearest the tender,and demanded to know what had happened.
Andrews called back to them that there would only be a short delay.
"It's only the fire that's out," he added; "and I'm thankful it is nothingworse. When I saw the train slowing up I was afraid some of the machineryhad broken." No one understood better than he how a broken engine wouldhave stranded all his men in the enemy's country, onl
y a short distanceaway, comparatively, from Big Shanty and the Confederate camp.
George worked with a will in assisting the men in the cab to convey woodfrom the tender into the engine furnace. In three minutes "The General"had resumed its way.
"I wonder," thought George, as the train twisted around a curve and thensped across a narrow embankment, "if any attempt will be made to followus." But the very idea of such pursuit seemed absurd.
Andrews turned to Jenks with a smiling countenance. "The most difficultpart of our journey is already over," he said triumphantly. "There's onlyone unscheduled train to meet, in addition to the two regulars. After Imeet it, probably at Kingston, twenty-five miles or more farther on, wecan put the old 'General' to full speed, and begin our work! We have gotthe upper hand at last."
"Don't forget your telegraph wire is to be cut," said Jenks, as he jammedhis shabby cap over his head, to prevent it from sailing off into space.
"Wait a couple of minutes," answered the leader. "We'll cut it." He knewthat although there was no telegraph station at Big Shanty, yet the enemymight tap the wire, if it were not cut, and thus send word along the linethat a train manned by Northern spies was to be watched for andperemptorily stopped. The simplest obstruction on the track would besufficient to bring this journey to an untimely end.
"Brown, we'll stop here," commanded the leader, a minute or two later, asthe engine was running over a comparatively level section. "The General"was soon motionless, whereupon Watson, peering out from the baggage car,called out: "Anything wrong?"
"Only a little wire-cutting to be done," shouted Andrews. Then coming toGeorge, he said: "Look here, my boy, how are you on climbing?"
"Never had a tree beat me yet," said the lad.
"Then try your skill at that pole yonder, and see if you can get to thetop of it."
Without waiting to make answer George handed Waggie to Jenks, jumped fromthe tender to the ashy road-bed, and started towards the nearest telegraphpole, only a few feet away from the engine. It was a far more difficulttask to coax one's way up a smooth pole than up the rough bark of a tree,as George soon learned. Twice he managed to clamber half way up the pole,and twice he slid ignominiously to the ground. But he was determined tosucceed, and none the less so because the men in the baggage car werelooking on as intently as if they were at the circus. Upon making thethird attempt he conquered, and reached the top of the pole amid thecheering of the spectators.
"Now hold on there for a minute, George," called Andrews. He produced fromone of his pockets a ball of very thick twine, or cord, to one end ofwhich he tied a small stick of kindling-wood, brought from the tender.Next he leaned out from the cab and threw the stick into the air. It flewover the telegraph wire, and then to the ground, so that the cord, theother end of which he held in his left hand, passed up across the wire,and so down again. To the end which he held Andrews tied a good-sizedaxe.
"Do you see what I want?" he asked the boy, who was resting himself on thecross-bar supporting the wire.
George needed no prompting. The cord was eight or nine feet away from him;to reach it he must move out on the telegraph wire, hand over hand, withhis feet dangling in the air. Slowly he swung himself from the cross-barto the wire, and began to finger his way towards the cord. But this was anexperience new to the expert tree-climber; ere he had proceeded more thanthree feet his hands slipped and he fell to the ground. The distance wasthirty-five feet or more, and the lookers-on cried out in alarm. The boywould surely break his legs--perhaps his neck!
But while Master George might not be an adept in handling a wire he hadlearned a few things about falling from trees. As he came tumbling down hegracefully turned a somersault and landed, quite unhurt, upon his feet.
"I'll do it yet," he maintained pluckily, running back to the telegraphpole.
"Wait, George," shouted Andrews. He leaped from the cab, and taking a newpiece of the cord, tied it around the lad's waist. "If I had the sense Iwas born with I might have done that first," he muttered.
George began his second ascent of the pole, and this time reached the topwithout hindrance or mishap. Andrews now fastened the axe to the cord, ofwhich George had one end; in a few seconds the axe had been drawn up bythe boy. Then, with his left hand holding on to the cross-bar, and hislegs firmly wound around the pole, he took the axe in his right hand andhit the wire. Three times did he thus strike; at the third blow the wiresnapped asunder, and the longer of the two pieces fell to the ground. Helet the tool fall, and slid down the pole as the men cheered him lustily.Andrews now took the axe, cut the dangling wire in another place, andthrew the piece thus secured into the tender.
"They can't connect that line in a hurry," he said, as he turned to Georgewith the remark: "Well, my son, you're earning your salt!" George,blushing like a peony, felt a thrill of pride.
"And now, fellows," added Andrews, addressing the men in the baggage car,"it will be best to take up a rail, so that if we are pursued, by anychance, the enemy will have some trouble in getting on any further."
The occupants of the car, headed by Watson, sprang to the ground. Andrewshanded him a smooth iron bar, about four feet in length. "We have notrack-raising instruments," explained the leader, "but I guess this willanswer." Watson managed to loosen some of the spikes on the track, in therear of the train, by means of this bar; later several of his companionssucceeded in placing a log under the rail and prying it up so that at lastthe piece of iron had been entirely separated from the track.
The perspiration was dripping from Watson's brow. "Great guns!" hegrowled, "we are acting as if we had a whole eternity of time before us."
"Don't worry about that," said Andrews, reassuringly, as he leaped intothe cab; "we have been running ahead of schedule time. But hurry up;there's lots of work before us!" In the next minute the Northerners wereonce more on their way.
After the train had run a distance of five miles, Andrews signaled to theengineer, and it was brought slowly to a stop. The chief jumped from theengine, walked along the track to the end car, and gazed intently to thesouthward.
"No sign of pursuit thus far," he said to himself. Then, turning back andspeaking to the men in the baggage car who had once more opened the door,he cried: "There's time, boys, for another wrestle with thetelegraph--only this time we will try a new plan." This time, indeed, apole was chopped down, and placed (after the wire had been cut) upon thetrack directly behind the last baggage car.
"There," said Andrews, "that will have to be lifted off before our friendsthe enemy can steam by--even if they have an engine good for seventy milesan hour."
Walter Jenks came walking back to the cab. He looked pale and tired.
"What's the matter?" asked Andrews.
"I strained my back a bit in helping the fellows to put that pole on thetrack," was the answer.
"Go back into the car and take a rest," urged the leader. "George can takeyour place as fireman. Eh, George?"
The boy, coming up at that moment, and hearing the suggestion, smiledalmost as broadly as the famous Cheshire cat. He longed to know that hewas of some real use in the expedition. So Jenks retired to the baggagecar, carrying with him, for a temporary companion, the struggling Waggie,who might be very much in George's way under the new arrangement ofduties.
Off once more rattled "The General," and George, in his capacity offireman, felt about three inches taller than he had five minutes before.The spirits of Andrews seemed to be rising higher and higher. Thus fareverything had gone so successfully that he began to believe that thehappy ending of this piece of daring was already assured.
"Now, my boys, for a bit of diplomacy," he said, at last, as the occupantsof the cab saw that they were approaching a small station flanked by halfa dozen houses. "Stop 'The General' here, Brown, for I think there's atank at the place."
As the train reached the platform and slowly stopped, the station-master,a rustic-looking individual with a white beard three feet long, shambledup to the cab.
"Ai
n't this Fuller's train?" he drawled, gazing curiously at the fourNortherners, as he gave a hitch to his shabby trousers. He could notunderstand the presence of the strangers in the engine, nor thedisappearance of the passenger cars.
Andrews leaned out of the cab window. He knew that Fuller was theconductor of the stolen train, whom they had left behind at Big Shanty."No," he said, in a tone of authority, "this is not Fuller's train. He'llbe along later; we have the right of way all along the line. I'm running aspecial right through to General Beauregard at Corinth. He is badly inneed of powder."
"Be the powder there?" asked the station-master, pointing to the threebaggage cars.
The men hiding in one of them had received their instructions; they wereas silent as the grave, and their doors were closed. The brakemen sat muteon top of the cars.
"Yes, there's enough powder in there to blow up the whole State ofGeorgia," returned Andrews.
"Wall, I'd give my shirt and my shoes to Beauregard if he wanted 'em,"said the man of the long beard. "He's the best General we have in theConfederate service;--yes, better even than Robert Lee."
"Well, then help Beauregard by helping me. I want more water--I see youhave a tank here--and more wood."
"You can have all you can hold," cried the station-master,enthusiastically. He was only too glad to be of use.
Thus it happened that ten minutes later "The General" was speeding awayfrom the station with a fresh supply of water and a huge pile of wood inthe tender.
"That yarn worked admirably, didn't it?" asked Andrews. The engineer andhis assistant laughed. George shut the heavy door of the furnace, intowhich he had been throwing wood, and stood up, very red in the face,albeit smiling.
"But even if the story was true," he suggested, "you couldn't get throughto Corinth."
"Exactly," laughed the leader, "but our goat-bearded friend at the stationdidn't think of that fact. Corinth is away off in the state ofMississippi, near its northern border, nearly three hundred miles awayfrom here; besides, if I were a Southerner, I couldn't possibly reachthere without running afoul of General Mitchell and his forces, eitheraround Huntsville, or Chattanooga. However, I knew more about Mitchell'smovements than the station man did--and that's where I had theadvantage."
"We may not have such plain sailing at Kingston," said the engineer, as"The General" just grazed an inquisitive cow which showed signs ofloitering on the track.
"We'll have more people to deal with there," admitted Andrews, "and wemust be all the more on our guard."
Both the men spoke wisely. It was just two hours after leaving Big Shanty,and about thirty miles had been covered, when the alleged powder-trainrolled into the station at the town of Kingston.
"I hope we meet that irregular freight train here," muttered Andrews.There were certainly plenty of cars in evidence on the sidings; indeed,the station, which was the junction for a branch line running to Rome,Georgia, presented a bustling appearance.
No sooner was "The General" motionless than a train-dispatcher emergedfrom a gathering of idlers on the platform and walked up to thelocomotive. He held in his hand a telegraphic blank. As he saw Andrews,who was leaning out of the cab with an air of impatience that was partlyreal and partly assumed, the dispatcher drew back in surprise. Herecognized "The General," but there were strange men in the cab.
"I thought this was Fuller's train," he said. "It's Fuller's engine."
"Yes, it is Fuller's engine, but he's to follow me with his regular trainand another engine. This is a special carrying ammunition for GeneralBeauregard, and I must have the right of way clear along the line!"
The dispatcher scanned the train. He saw nothing to excite his suspicions.The baggage cars were closed, and might easily be filled with powder andshot; the men in the engine, and the two brakemen on the top of one carhad a perfectly natural appearance.
"Well, you can't move on yet," he announced. "Here's a telegram saying alocal freight from the north will soon be here, and you must wait till shecomes up."
Andrews bit his lip in sheer vexation. He had reasoned that this irregularfreight train would already be at Kingston on his arrival, and he hatedthe idea of a delay. The loiterers on the platform were listening eagerlyto the conversation; he felt that he was attracting too much attention.But there was no help for it. He could not go forward on this single-trackrailroad until the exasperating freight had reached the station.
"All right," he answered, endeavoring to look unconcerned, "shunt usoff."
Within three minutes the train had been shifted from the main track to aside track, and a curious crowd had gathered around "The General."
It was a critical situation. The idlers began to ply the occupants of thecab with a hundred questions which must be answered in some shape unlesssuspicion was to be aroused--and suspicion, under such circumstances,would mean the holding back of the train, and the failure of theexpedition.
"Where did you come from?" "How much powder have you got on board?" "Whydid you take Fuller's engine?" "Why is Beauregard in such a hurry forammunition?" were among the queries hurled at the defenceless heads of thefour conspirators.
George, as he gazed out upon the Kingstonians, began to feel rathernervous. He realized that one contradictory answer, one slip of thetongue, might spoil everything. And in this case to spoil was a verbmeaning imprisonment and ultimate death.
A dapper young man, with small, piercing eyes and a head that suggested alarge bump of self-conceit, called out: "You chaps can't reach Beauregard.You'll run right into the Yankee forces."
"I've got my orders and I'm going to try it," doggedly answered Andrews.
"And run your ammunition right into the hands of the Yankees?" sneered thedapper young man. "I don't see the sense in that."
An angry flush came into Andrews' cheeks. "When you have been in theConfederate army a little while, young man, as I have," he said, "you'lllearn to obey orders and ask no questions. Why don't you go serve yourcountry, as other young men are doing, instead of idling around at a safedistance from the bullets?"
At this sally a shout of laughter went up from the crowd. It was evidentthat the dapper young man was not popular. He made no answer, but wentaway. "Will that freight never turn up?" thought Andrews.
Suddenly there came a barking from the baggage car nearest the tender,wherein were confined the majority of the party. George's heart beat thefaster as he listened; he knew that the querulous little cries wereuttered by Waggie.
An old man, with snow-white hair and beard, cried out: "Is that dog in thecar part of your ammunition?" His companions laughed at the witticism. Foronce Andrews was nonplused. George came bravely to the rescue.
"It's a dog in a box," he said, "and it's a present to GeneralBeauregard."
"Well, I hopes the purp won't be blown up," remarked the old man. Therewas another titter, but the story was believed.
"Things are getting a little too warm here," Andrews whispered to George.As the words left his lips he heard the screeching of a locomotive. "It'sthe freight!" he cried.
It was, indeed, the longed-for freight train; puffing laboriously, it cameup to the station and was quickly switched off to a siding.
"Now we can get rid of these inquisitive hayseeds," said Andrews.
"Look," cried George; "I see a red flag!" He pointed to the rear platformof the end freight car, from which was suspended a piece of red bunting.Andrews stamped his foot and indulged in some forcible language. He knewthat the flag indicated the presence of another train back of thefreight.
Andrews was out of the cab like a flash. "What does this red flag mean?"he demanded of the conductor of the freight train, who was about to crossthe tracks to enter the station.
"What does _what_ mean?" asked the conductor, in a tone of mild surprise.
"Why is the road blocked up behind you?" asked the leader. Had he been thePresident of the Southern Confederacy he could not have spoken moreimperiously. "I have a special train with orders to take a load of powderto General
Beauregard without delay! And here I find my way stopped bymiserable freight trains which are not a quarter as important as my threecars of ammunition."
"I'm sorry, sir," explained the conductor, "but it ain't my fault. Factis, Mitchell, the Yankee General, has captured Huntsville, and we'removing everything we can out of Chattanooga, because it's said he ismarching for there. We have had to split this freight up into twosections--and t'other section is a few miles behind. Don't worry. It'll behere soon. But, look here, sir! You'll never be able to reach Beauregard.General Mitchell will get you long before you are near Corinth."
"Pooh!" replied Andrews. "Mitchell may have taken Huntsville, but he can'tstay there. Beauregard has, no doubt, sent him flying by this time. And,anyway, I'm bound to obey orders from Richmond, come what may."
"I wish you luck, sir," said the freight conductor, who was impressed bythe authoritative bearing of Andrews, and believed the spy to be someConfederate officer of high rank.
The leader returned to the cab. It was still surrounded by the curiousidlers.
"This is what I call pretty bad railroad management," he grumbled, loudenough to be heard by the Kingstonians. "This line should be kept clearwhen it's necessary to get army supplies quickly from place to place. Whatare fifty freight trains compared to powder for the troops?"
The minutes passed slowly; it seemed as if that second freight train wouldnever come. At last a dull, rumbling sound on the track gave warning ofthe approach of the second section. In a few moments the heavily-ladencars, drawn by a large engine, had glided by "The General," down the maintrack. The men in the cab gave unconscious sighs of relief. Now they couldmove onward. But what was it that the sharp eyes of George detected? Yes,there could be no mistake. At the end of the second freight train wasanother red flag.
"Look!" he whispered. Andrews saw the flag, and turned white.
"How many more trains are we to wait for?" he said.
After regaining his composure he left the engine, to seek the conductor ofthe new train. He was back again in five minutes.
"Well?" asked George.
"I find from the conductor that there's still another section behind him,"explained Andrews. "The Confederate commander at Chattanooga fears theapproach of General Mitchell and has ordered all the rolling stock of therailroad to be sent south to Atlanta. The new train should be here in tenminutes."
In the meantime the people around the station had all heard of the dangerwhich threatened Chattanooga from the Union army. The train-dispatchercame running over to the engine, and doffed his cap to Andrews.
"It ain't none of my business," he said, with supreme indifference to anyrules of grammar, "but they say Mitchell is almost at Chattanooga--andyou'll never get through to Corinth."
Andrews assumed an air of contemptuous superiority.
"I happen to know more of General Mitchell's movements than you do," hesaid, "And, what's more, no Confederate officer takes orders from arailroad employee."
"I didn't mean any offense," answered the train-dispatcher.
"Then go back and see that the switches are ready for me to move on theinstant the next freight gets here," ordered the leader. The young manwalked away, with a nod of assent.
"He talks proud enough," he thought; "he must be a relation of JeffersonDavis, from his airs."
After the dispatcher had gone, Andrews whispered to George: "We ought tolet the boys in the car know the cause of our detention--and warn themthat in case of anything going wrong in our plans they must be prepared tofight for their lives. Could you manage to get word to them withoutattracting suspicion?"
The boy made no verbal answer. But as he left the cab and vaulted to theground, his looks showed that he understood what was wanted, and proposedto execute the commission. After sauntering among the men who stood nearthe engine, he crossed the track of the siding, directly in front of "TheGeneral's" headlight, and soon leaned, in a careless attitude, against thecar in which so many of his companions were waiting. He was now on theopposite side of the track from the Kingstonians, but directly alongsidethe main track, and in full view from the station.
George began, in a very low tone, to whistle a few bars from "The BlueBells of Scotland." It was a tune he had often indulged in during histravels from the Union camp. As he finished there came a bark ofrecognition from Waggie, and a slight stir in the car.
"Are you there, Watson?" asked the boy, under his breath. "Can you hearme? If you can, scratch on the wall."
There was a moment's pause, and the faint sound of footsteps was heardwithin the car. Then came an answering scratch.
George went on, in the same tone, as he leaned against the car, andapparently gazed into space: "Andrews wants you--to know--that we'rewaiting--till some freight trains--get in--from Chattanooga. But ifanything--should happen--before we--can get away--be ready to fight. KeepWaggie from barking--if you can."
Another scratching showed that Watson had heard and understood. But Waggiebegan to bark again. George was filled with vexation. "Why did I letWaggie go in the car?" he asked himself.
Just then a welcome whistle proclaimed that the third freight train wasapproaching. It was time; the delay at Kingston must have occupied nearlyan hour--it seemed like a whole day--and the men about the railroadstation were becoming skeptical. They could not understand why themysterious commander of the powder-train should persist in wanting to goon after hearing that Mitchell was so near.
When George returned to the engine the new freight went by on the maintrack directly in the wake of the second freight, which had been sent halfa mile down the line, to the southward. The main track was now clear forAndrews. But the intrepid leader seemed to be facing fresh trouble. He wasstanding on the step of the cab, addressing the old man who had charge ofthe switches.
"Switch me off to the main track at once," thundered Andrews. "Don't yousee, fool, that the last local freight is in, and I have a clear road!"
There was a provokingly obstinate twist about the switch-tender's mouth.
"Switch yourself off," he snarled. "I shan't take the responsibility fordoing it. You may be what you say you are, but I haven't anything to proveit. You're a fool, anyway, to run right into the arms of the Yankeegeneral."
His fellow-townsmen indulged in a murmur of approval. The men in the cabsaw that another minute would decide their fate, adversely or otherwise.
"I order you to switch me off--in the name of the Confederate Government!"shouted the leader.
More citizens were running over from the station to find out the cause ofthe disturbance.
"I don't know you, and I won't take any orders from you!" said theswitch-tender, more doggedly than ever. He walked over to the station,where he hung up the keys of the switch in the room of the ticket-seller.
In a twinkling Andrews had followed him, and was already in the ticketroom.
"You'll be sorry for this," he cried; "for I'll report your rascallyconduct to General Beauregard!" He seized the keys as he spoke, and shookthem in the old man's face.
The latter looked puzzled. He had begun to think that this business ofsending powder to Beauregard was a trick of some kind, yet the confidentbearing of the leader impressed him at this crisis. Perhaps he had made amistake in refusing to obey the orders; but ere he could decide the knottyproblem Andrews took the keys, hurried from the station, and unlocked theswitch. Then he jumped into the cab, as he shouted to the men near theengine: "Tell your switch-tender that he will hear from General Beauregardfor this!" He gave a signal, and the engineer grasped the lever and openedthe steam valve.
"The General" slowly left the siding and turned into the main track. Asthe train passed the station, heading towards the north, the switch-tenderwas standing on the platform, with a dazed expression in his eyes. Andrewstossed the keys to him, as he cried: "Forgive me for being in such ahurry, but the Confederacy can't wait for you!" Soon Kingston was leftbehind.
"Keep 'The General' going at forty miles an hour," said the leader. "Wehav
e only the two trains to meet now--a passenger and a freight--whichwon't give us any trouble. I tell you, we had a narrow escape at Kingston.More than once I thought we were all done for."
"I was pretty well scared when that rascal of a Waggie barked," observedGeorge. The train was now gliding swiftly on past hills and woods andquiet pasture-lands. After the long delay the sensation of rapid motionwas delightful.
"By Jove!" cried Andrews, with a tinge of humor. "You must bring thatrogue back with you into the engine. When he barks in a place wherethere's supposed to be nothing but powder the thing doesn't seem quitelogical. It throws discredit on an otherwise plausible story. Let us stopa couple of miles from here, near Adairsville, do some wire-cutting,release Waggie, and see how the fellows are getting along in the baggagecar."
When the stop was made the men in the car quickly opened the door and cametumbling to the ground. They were glad to stretch their legs and get abreath of fresh air. Waggie bounded and frisked with delight when heespied George.
"I've had a time with that dog," said Jenks. "I had a flask of water withme, and he insisted on my pouring every bit of it out on the palm of myhand, and letting him lap it."
The other occupants of the car were crowding around Andrews, as theydiscussed with him the fortunate escape from Kingston. Watson, who seemedto be fired with a sudden enthusiasm, addressed the party.
"Boys," he said, "when I heard that switch-tender refuse to put us on themain track I thought our hour had come. But the coolness and the presenceof mind of our friend Andrews have saved the day. Let us give him threecheers! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
The cheers were given with a will.
"Thank you, comrades," said Andrews, modestly. "But don't waste any timeon me; I only did what any other man would have done in my place. Let'sget to work again--time's precious."
At a hint from him George clambered up a telegraph pole, taking with him apiece of cord by which he afterwards drew up an axe. Then he cut the wire,while others in the party were removing three rails from the track in therear of the train. The rails were afterwards deposited in the baggage caroccupied by the men, as were also some wooden cross-ties which were foundnear the road-bed.
"All this may be a waste of time," said Andrews. "We shall probably be inChattanooga before any one has a chance to chase us."
"Yet I have a presentiment that we shall be chased," cried Macgreggor. "Ibelieve there will be a hot pursuit."
His hearers, including Andrews, laughed, almost scornfully.
"Just wait and see," returned Macgreggor. "A Southerner is as brave, andhas as much brains as a Northerner."
We shall see who was right in the matter.
Chasing an Iron Horse Page 5