diff options
Diffstat (limited to '26892-h/26892-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 26892-h/26892-h.htm | 8012 |
1 files changed, 8012 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/26892-h/26892-h.htm b/26892-h/26892-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85bbb98 --- /dev/null +++ b/26892-h/26892-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8012 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chasing an Iron Horse, by Edward Robins. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chasing an Iron Horse, by Edward Robins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Chasing an Iron Horse + Or, A Boy's Adventures in the Civil War + +Author: Edward Robins + +Release Date: October 12, 2008 [EBook #26892] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHASING AN IRON HORSE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 359px; height: 540px;' /><br /> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/frontis.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 280px; height: 427px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 280px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“The Next Moment Was a Blank”</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0.5em;'>Chasing an Iron Horse</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Or</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:3em;'>A Boy’s Adventures in the Civil War</p> +<p>By</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>EDWARD ROBINS</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; font-style:italic;'>Author of “With Washington in Braddock’s Campaign,”</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:5em; font-style:italic;'>“A Boy in Early Virginia,” etc.</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:5em;'>PHILADELPHIA</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.</p> +<p style=' margin-bottom:2em;'>PUBLISHERS</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>Copyright, 1902,</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>By <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>George W. Jacobs</span> & Co.</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p><i>Published August, 1902.</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:1.2em;'> +<p>Preface</p> +</div> + +<p>The locomotive chase in Georgia, which forms +what may be called the background of this story, +was an actual occurrence of the great Civil War. +But I wish to emphasize the fact that the following +pages belong to the realm of fiction. Some +of the incidents, and the character of Andrews, +are historic, whilst other incidents and characters +are imaginary. The reader who would like to +procure an account of the chase as it really happened +should consult the narrative of the Reverend +William Pittenger. Mr. Pittenger took part +in the expedition organized by Andrews, and his +record of it is a graphic contribution to the annals +of the conflict between North and South.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Edward Robins.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em; font-style:italic;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>HAZARDOUS PLANS </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_HAZARDOUS_PLANS'>7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>NEARING THE GOAL </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_NEARING_THE_GOAL'>27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>MINGLING WITH THE ENEMY </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_MINGLING_WITH_THE_ENEMY'>56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>PLOT AND PLOTTERS </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_PLOT_AND_PLOTTERS'>95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>ON THE RAIL </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_ON_THE_RAIL'>121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_AN_UNPLEASANT_SURPRISE'>156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>ENERGETIC PURSUIT </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_ENERGETIC_PURSUIT'>188</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>TWO WEARY WANDERERS </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_TWO_WEARY_WANDERERS'>206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>IN GREATEST PERIL </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_IN_GREATEST_PERIL'>232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>FINAL TRIALS </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_FINAL_TRIALS'>263</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Illustrations</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto'> +<col style='width:80%;' /> +<col style='width:20%;' /> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“The Next Moment was a blank”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Major merely changed the position of his legs</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>82</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Fuller was steaming to the northward with “The Yonah”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>None too soon had he executed this manœuvre</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>214</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Watson placed his hand over the man’s mouth</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_5'>270</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>Chasing an Iron Horse</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_HAZARDOUS_PLANS' id='I_HAZARDOUS_PLANS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>HAZARDOUS PLANS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The lightning flashes, the mutterings of thunder, +like the low growls of some angry animal, +and the shrieking of the wind through swaying +branches, gave a weird, uncanny effect to a scene +which was being enacted, on a certain April +night of the year 1862, in a secluded piece of +woodland a mile or more east of the village of +Shelbyville, Tennessee. In the centre of a small +clearing hemmed in by trees stood a tall, full-bearded +man of distinguished bearing. Around +him were grouped twenty sturdy fellows who +listened intently, despite the stir of the elements, +to something that he was saying in a low, serious +tone of voice. None of them, strangely enough, +wore a uniform, although they were all loyal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +Union soldiers belonging to the division of +troops commanded by General O. M. Mitchell, +then encamped on the banks of Duck River, +only a couple of miles away. For the country +was now engaged in the life-and-death struggle +of the Civil War, when Northerner fought +against Southerner—sometimes brother against +brother—and no one could predict whether the +result would be a divided or a reunited nation.</p> +<p>“My friends,” the speaker was solemnly saying, +as a new flash from the darkened heavens +lit up the landscape for a second, and showed +how resolute were the lines of his face; “my +friends, if you go into this scheme with me, you +are taking your lives into your hands. It’s only +fair that I should impress this upon you, and +give any and all of you a chance to drop +out.”</p> +<p>There was a quick, sharp clap of thunder, +which was not loud enough, however, to drown +the earnest protest of every listener. “We’re +not cowards, Andrews!” “We’ll stick to you +through thick and thin!” “Nobody’s going to +draw back!” These were among the fervent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +answers which greeted the leader addressed as +Andrews. The latter was evidently pleased, +though by no means surprised. He was dealing +with brave men, and he knew his audience.</p> +<p>“All the better, boys,” he went on, with a +complacent ring in his soft but penetrating +voice. “You see, this is the situation. The +Confederates are concentrating at Corinth, Mississippi, +and Generals Grant and Buell are advancing +by different routes against them. Now, +our own General Mitchell finds himself in a +position to press into East Tennessee as far as +possible, and he hopes soon to seize Chattanooga, +after he has taken Huntsville, Alabama. But to +do this he must cut off Chattanooga from all +railroad communication to the south and east, +and therefore all aid. In other words, we men +are to enter the enemy’s country in disguise, +capture a train on the Georgia State railroad, +steam off with it, and burn the bridges leading +in the direction of Chattanooga, on the northern +end of the road. It is one of the most daring +ideas ever conceived, and its execution will be +full of difficulties. If we fail we shall be hanged +as spies! If we succeed, there will be promotion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +and glory for all of us, and our names will go +down into history.”</p> +<p>There was a murmur of encouragement from +the men, as one said: “We must succeed, if +only to save our necks.” The next moment the +barking of a dog could be heard above the +whistling of the wind.</p> +<p>“Be careful,” cried Andrews, warningly; +“some one may be listening.”</p> +<p>Hardly had he spoken before two figures +bounded from the encircling trees into the open +space wherein stood the startled conspirators. +While flashes of lightning played through the +branches, and gave fitful illumination to the +scene, the men saw revealed a lad of about fifteen +or sixteen years of age, flushed and breathless, +and at his heels a tiny Yorkshire terrier, +bright of face, and with an inquiring glance that +seemed to say: “What is all this fuss about?” +As the animal danced around the boy it was +evident that the latter was by no means frightened, +or even surprised, by the strangeness of +this meeting in the forest. His regular, handsome +features and intelligent, sparkling gray +eyes denoted excitement rather than fear. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +sprang forward, and, pulling a letter from an +inner pocket of his blue jacket, made straight +for Andrews.</p> +<p>“Why, if it isn’t George Knight,” muttered +one soldier, “and his chum, Waggie.”</p> +<p>The dog, hearing his own name, came up and +fawned upon the man who had spoken, while +the boy thrust into the hands of the leader the +letter which he had so carefully guarded.</p> +<p>“This is from General Mitchell,” explained +young Knight. “He said it was most urgent—and +I was to fetch it to you as soon as possible.”</p> +<p>Andrews opened the letter, as he replied +kindly to the lad: “You look out of breath, +George. Did you have a hard time reaching +here?”</p> +<p>“As Waggie and I were hurrying up the +Shelbyville road in the darkness,” returned +George Knight, “we ran into a company of +Confederate guerrillas. They paid us the compliment +of firing at us—and we had to run for +our lives. But we gave the fellows the slip.”</p> +<p>Thereupon Waggie gave a growl. Andrews, +who was about to read the letter from General +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +Mitchell, assumed a listening attitude. So did +every one else. Out on the highroad, not a hundred +yards away, could be heard the tramping +of horses. Involuntarily the men put their +hands towards the pockets which contained their +revolvers.</p> +<p>“The guerrillas!” muttered the boy, as Andrews +gave him a questioning look.</p> +<p>“How many are there of them?” asked the +leader.</p> +<p>“Hard to tell in the dark,” answered George. +“I think there were a dozen or so.”</p> +<p>“Oh, if that’s all, let’s give ’em a scare, boys!” +laughed Andrews. Suiting the action to his +words, he pulled out a pistol from his hip pocket, +and fired it in the direction of the highroad. +His companions, nothing loath, quickly followed +his example. George and his canine +chum looked on expectantly, as if regretting +that neither of them possessed a weapon. Now +there came the clatter of hoofs, like a stampede, +and the guerrillas seemed to be engaged in a +wild scramble to get away. They were an intrepid +party, without doubt, but the sudden +volley from the mysterious and darkened recesses +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +of the woods (which might come, for all +the Southerners knew, from a whole regiment of +troops) demoralized them. In another instant +they were scampering off, and the sound of the +horses on the road was soon lost in the distance.</p> +<p>Andrews replaced his revolver, with a little +chuckle of amusement.</p> +<p>“They are a daring lot to venture so near our +army,” he said. Then he began to read the letter, +with the aid of a dark lantern provided by +one of his companions.</p> +<p>While he is engaged in this occupation let us +ask two questions. Who is Andrews, and who +is George Knight? James Andrews, though a +Virginian by birth, has lived in the mountains +of Kentucky for many years, and is now a spy +of the Union army, in the employ of General +Buell. The war is only fairly begun, but already +more than once has the spy courted death by +penetrating into the lines of the Confederacy, in +the guise of a merchant, and bringing back to +the Northern forces much valuable information. +He is a man of fine education and polished manners, +despite his life in the wilds, and is tall, aristocratic-looking, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +and full of a quiet courage +which, in his own dangerous profession, answers +far better than the greatest impetuosity. He +has plenty of daring, but it is a daring tempered +with prudence. Although he has masqueraded +among the enemy at times when the slightest +slip of the tongue might have betrayed him, he +has thus far returned to the Union lines in +safety. How long, some of his friends ask anxiously, +will he be able to continue in so perilous +an enterprise? Yet here he is, planning, with +the consent of General Mitchell, a scheme bolder +than anything yet dreamed of in the annals of +the war.</p> +<p>And what of George Knight? He is an active, +healthy-minded drummer boy belonging to +one of the Ohio regiments in General Mitchell’s +division. His mother had died in his infancy. +At the outbreak of the war, a year before the +opening of our story, he was living in Cincinnati +with his father. The latter suddenly gave up a +prosperous law practice to go to the help of the +North, secured a commission as a captain of +volunteers, went to the front, and was either +captured or killed by the Confederates. Since +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +the preceding Christmas nothing had been heard +of him. George, with an aching heart, stayed at +home with an uncle, and chafed grievously as he +saw company after company of militia pass +through his native town on the way to the +South. Where was his father? This he asked +himself twenty times a day. And must he, the +son, stand idly by whilst thousands of the flower +of the land were rushing forward to fight on one +side or the other in the great conflict? “I must +enlist!” George had cried, more than once. +“Pshaw!” replied his uncle; “you are too +young—a mere child.” But one fine day George +Knight had himself enrolled as a drummer boy +in a regiment then being recruited in Cincinnati, +and, as his uncle had a large family of his own, +with no very strong affection to spare for his +nephew, there was not as much objection as +might have been expected. So the lad went to +the war. He had now become a particular <i>protégé</i> +of General Mitchell, who had taken him into +his own service as an assistant secretary—a position +in which George had already shown much +natural cleverness.</p> +<p>After reading the letter just brought to him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +Andrews tears it into a hundred little pieces +which he scatters to the winds.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” ask several of the +men, as they crowd around him.</p> +<p>“Hurry’s the matter,” laughs the leader, as +unconcernedly as if he were speaking of nothing +more dangerous than a picnic. “The General +tells me we must start at once, if we want +to accomplish anything. To-morrow [Tuesday] +morning he takes his army straight south to +Huntsville. If he captures the town by Friday, +as he expects to do, he can move eastwards, to +Chattanooga. So we will do our bridge-burning +and our train-stealing on Friday, before the railroad +is obstructed with trains bringing Confederate +reinforcements to the latter city.”</p> +<p>Even in the darkness one could detect the +gleam in the eyes of the men as they saw before +them, with pleasure rather than fear, the risky +part they were to play in the drama of warfare. +The eyes of George sparkled, likewise.</p> +<p>“If I could only go with them,” he thought. +What was camp life compared to the delight of +such an adventure? Waggie gave a bark. Even +he seemed to scent something interesting. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>“You soldiers,” continued Andrews, “must +break into detachments, make your way eastward +into the Cumberland Mountains, and then +southward, well into the Confederate lines. +There you can take the cars, and by next Thursday +night you must all meet me down at Marietta, +Georgia. The next morning according to a +plan which you will learn at Marietta, (which is +on the Georgia State Railroad) we will put our +little ruse into effect—and may providence smile +on it.”</p> +<p>“But what will the men pretend to be while +on their way down to Marietta?” asked George, +who could scarce contain either his curiosity or +his enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“Look here, my boy,” said Andrews, in a quick +though not in an unkindly way. “I don’t know +that you should be hearing all this.”</p> +<p>Had the scene been less dark one might have +seen the flush on the boy’s face.</p> +<p>“I didn’t think I was playing eavesdropper,” +he retorted.</p> +<p>Andrews put his right hand on George’s shoulder. +“Come,” he said, in a spirit of friendliness; +“I didn’t exactly mean that. I know you’re to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +be trusted, from what General Mitchell has said +of you. But you must keep a tight rein on your +tongue, and not say a syllable, even in camp, of +this expedition. There’s no reason why the +whole army should be discussing it—until the +thing’s done. Then you can talk about it as +much as you want.”</p> +<p>George no longer felt offended. “You can +depend on me,” he said manfully. “I won’t +even tell the General.”</p> +<p>At this there was a peal of laughter from the +men, which seemed to be answered, the next instant, +by a blinding fork of lightning, and then +a fresh outburst of thunder. Andrews lifted up +his hand warningly. He was very grave, as befitted +a man on the verge of a mighty responsibility.</p> +<p>“Not so loud,” he protested. “You boys must +impersonate Kentuckians who are trying to get +down south to join the Confederate army. A +great many fellows have gone from Kentucky to +throw in their lot with the Confederacy, and if +you are prudent you will have no trouble in +making people believe you. If any of you fall +under suspicion on the way, and are arrested, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +can enlist in the Confederate army, and then +escape from it at the first opportunity. The +Southerners are glad to get all the recruits they +can, suspicious or otherwise. But I hope you +will all reach Marietta in safety. Pray be careful +of one thing. If you meet me as we are +traveling, don’t recognize me unless you are sure +no one is watching us. At Marietta we will contrive +to meet in the hotel near the railroad station, +where I will tell you all that is to be done +the next morning.”</p> +<p>“We have no money for the journey,” interposed +a young volunteer. “Uncle Sam doesn’t +pay us privates very large salaries, you know, +Mr. Andrews.”</p> +<p>Andrews produced a large wallet from the inner +pocket of his overcoat. It was fairly bulging +with paper money.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen to that,” he explained. “Here’s a +whole wad of Confederate currency which will +pay your expenses through the Southern lines.” +And with that he began to deal out the bills to +the men, who hastily stowed away the money in +their own pockets.</p> +<p>“Now, boys,” went on the leader, “I want +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +you to divide yourselves into parties of three or +four, so that you may travel in separate groups, +and thus avoid the suspicion which might be +aroused if you all went in a body. And remember! +One party must have nothing to do with +another.”</p> +<p>Thereupon, in the gloomy woods, the future +spies formed themselves, as their inclinations directed, +into six parties or detachments, four containing +three men each, and two containing four. +Andrews was to proceed southward alone, without +an escort. Poor George Knight and Waggie +appeared to be left out in the cold. George was +burning to join the expedition. Even the rain +which suddenly began to fall could not quench +his ardor.</p> +<p>“Mr. Andrews,” he said, coming up close to +the leader, and speaking in a whisper, “can’t I +go to Marietta, too?”</p> +<p>Andrews peered at the boy in admiring surprise. +“By Jove,” he answered, “you’re not +afraid of danger, even if you are little more than +a child. It’s bad enough for grown men to risk +their lives—and bad enough for me to drag them +into such a position,—without getting a plucky +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +boy into the scrape also. No! Don’t ask me to +do that.”</p> +<p>“But I won’t be in any more danger in the +South than I am here,” pleaded George. “If I +stay here I may be shot in battle, while if I go +to Marietta I——”</p> +<p>“If you go to Marietta, and are found out, +you may be hanged as a spy,” interrupted Andrews. +“I’d rather see you shot than strung up +with a rope.”</p> +<p>“The Confederates would never hang me if I +am little more than a child, as you call me,” +urged the lad.</p> +<p>Andrews was evidently impressed by George’s +persistence, but he hastened to say: “Anyway, +I have no authority to send you off on this chase. +You are a member of General Mitchell’s military +household, and he alone could give you the permission.”</p> +<p>“Then promise me that if I get his permission +you will let me go.”</p> +<p>The spy hesitated. He could just discern the +earnest, pleading expression in the upturned face +of the boy, upon which the rain-drops were pouring +almost unnoticed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>“Well,” he said, at last, “I am going back to +camp now, and I start out before daylight. If +you can induce the General to let you accompany +us before that time I’ll make no objection.”</p> +<p>George gave a little exclamation of delight. +“Come,” he said, snapping his fingers at Waggie, +“let us see what we can do to talk the old General +into it.”</p> +<p>The rain was now coming down in torrents, +while the sharp, almost deafening cracks of thunder +sounded as if the whole artillery of the Union +army were engaged in practice. Soon all the +conspirators were hurrying back to camp. Andrews +was the very last to leave the woods where +he had divulged his plans.</p> +<p>“Heaven forgive me,” he mused, half sadly, +“if I am leading these boys into a death trap.” +But as a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the +wet landscape, as with the brightness of day, there +came into the leader’s strong face a look of calm +resolution. “It’s worth all the danger,” he +added.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>An hour later George Knight came running +into the tent which Andrews occupied in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +camp on Duck River. The leader was enveloped +in a woolen overcoat, and on his well-shaped +head was a slouch hat of the kind generally worn +by Southerners. By the dim, sickly light of the +candle which sputtered on a camp stool it could +be seen that he had been writing, for pen, ink +and a sealed letter were spread out upon the top +of a leathern army trunk.</p> +<p>“Well,” cried Andrews, picking up the candle +from its tin socket and flashing it in the radiant +face of the boy. “Ah! No need to ask you! I +see by your dancing eyes that you have wheedled +old Mitchell into allowing you to do a foolish +thing.”</p> +<p>The smile on the lad’s face vanished. “Don’t +you want me to go along with you?” he asked, +in an injured tone.</p> +<p>The leader replaced the candle in the socket +and then took one of George’s hands between his +own strong palms. “George,” he said cordially, +“you’re a boy after my own heart, and I’d like +nothing better than to have you for a companion; +but it’s because I do like you that I’m sorry you +are about to run such a risk—and that’s the truth. +How did you contrive to persuade the General?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p> +<p>George seated himself on Andrews’ bed, and +laughed. “It was hard work at first,” he explained, +“but after he had refused me twice I +said to him: ‘General, if you were a boy in my +place, and had heard of this expedition, what +would you do?’ ‘By all the stars,’ he said, ‘I +would run away to it rather than miss it—and +get shot afterwards as a deserter, I suppose.’ +‘Then don’t put me under the temptation of running +away,’ said I. At this the General laughed. +Then he said: ‘Well, tell Andrews you can go—and +that I’ll never forgive him if he lets anything +happen to you. After all, the Confederates +would never hang a child like you.’”</p> +<p>“So he too calls you a child!” laughed Andrews.</p> +<p>“Of course I’m not a child,” cried George +proudly, as he jumped from the bed and stood up +very straight, to make himself look as tall as possible; +“but the General may call me a six-weeks’ +old baby if he only lets me go along with you.”</p> +<p>“There is no time to waste,” announced Andrews. +“In the third tent from mine, to the +right, you will find Privates Macgreggor and Watson, +of the Second Ohio Volunteers. They have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +just offered to go with us, and I have accepted +them in addition to the rest. Go to them, ask +them to get you a suit of plain clothes, put it on +instead of your uniform, and stick to them closely +from the moment you leave camp until you meet +me, as I hope you will, at Marietta. And be +particularly careful to have nothing about you +which could in any way lead to your identification +as a Union soldier in case you should be arrested +and searched.”</p> +<p>“Hurrah!” said George, half under his breath.</p> +<p>“May we all be hurrahing this time next week,” +returned Andrews. “Here, George, as you go +out give this letter to the sentry outside, to be +sent off to-morrow in the camp mail.” As he +spoke he took the sealed note from the army +trunk, and handed it to the boy. “It is written +to the young woman I am engaged to marry,” +he explained, “and if we all get out of this bridge-burning +business with our heads on our shoulders +you can come dance at my wedding, and be my +best man.”</p> +<p>“I’d dance at twenty weddings for you,” enthusiastically +cried George, who was beginning +to have a great admiration for his new friend. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>“You don’t want me to be married twenty times, +do you, my boy?” protested Andrews, smiling.</p> +<p>“I would do a great deal to oblige you,” retorted +George. Then, after warmly grasping his +leader by the hand, he bounded out of the tent. +The night was black, and the rain was still descending +in a veritable torrent, but to the lad +everything seemed clear and rosy. He only saw +before him a mighty adventure—and that, to his +ardent, youthful spirit, made the whole world appear +charming.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_NEARING_THE_GOAL' id='II_NEARING_THE_GOAL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>NEARING THE GOAL</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was the Thursday afternoon succeeding the +Monday night described in the former chapter. +On the north bank of the Tennessee River, not +far from the town of Jasper, three drenched +figures might be discerned. They were looking +somewhat longingly in the direction of a white +frame house not fifty yards away from the +stream, which, swollen by the recent storms, was +in a particularly turbulent mood. There was +nothing very attractive about the building save +that it suggested shelter from the rain without, +and that the smoke curling up from its large +chimney held forth vague hopes of a palatable +supper. Certainly there was little in the landscape +itself to tempt any one to remain outdoors. +The three wanderers seemed to be of this +opinion, for they suddenly made a move towards +the house. They were roughly dressed, their +clothes were soaking, and their high boots bore +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +the evidence of a long, muddy tramp across +country.</p> +<p>“Well,” grumbled one of them, a thick-set, +middle-aged man, with a good-humored expression +and a four-days’ growth of iron-gray beard +on his face; “why did I leave home and home +cooking to enlist in the army and then wander +over the earth like this?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Watson!” exclaimed the person next to +him, in a tone of boyish surprise; “how can you +talk like that? Why, <i>I</i> am having the time of +my life.”</p> +<p>The speaker was George Knight. There was +mud on his face, and the natty drummer boy in +blue uniform had given place to a young fellow +who outwardly resembled an ordinary farm hand. +But there could be no doubt, from the light +which shone in his bright eyes, that he was enjoying +himself to the full.</p> +<p>“Humph!” returned Watson. “When you +get as old as I am, my boy, you won’t take such +keen delight in walking through mire.”</p> +<p>The boy laughed, and turned to the third +member of the party. “Are you tired, too, Macgreggor?” +he asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>Macgreggor, a compactly built, athletic young +man of twenty-seven or thereabouts, with a +light-brown beard and mustache which made +him look older than he really was, shook the rain +from his hat and said cheerily, “I’ve done a good +deal of mountain climbing since Tuesday morning, +but I’m not too tired to eat a good supper, +if we are lucky enough to find one in this place.”</p> +<p>It need hardly be repeated that Watson and +Macgreggor were the two men in whose care +Andrews had placed George Knight. They +were both brave, resourceful men. During their +long trudge across the mountainous country +between Shelbyville and the Tennessee, Watson +had uttered many a grumble, but his complaints +meant nothing more than a desire to +hear himself talk. When it came to fording a +stream, climbing a precipice, or fairly wading +through the slush, he was quite as willing and +energetic as the other two members of his +party.</p> +<p>George knocked loudly at the door of the +house, as he and his companions hastily sheltered +themselves under the little piazza which ran along +the front of the place. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p> +<p>“Be on your guard, boys,” whispered Watson. +“Stick to your story about our being Kentuckians, +and say nothing imprudent that may arouse +suspicion. Remember! we <i>must</i> be in Marietta +by to-morrow night.”</p> +<p>The meeting at Marietta had, at the very last +moment, been postponed by Andrews from +Thursday night to Friday night. “It is well he +did postpone it,” thought Macgreggor; “we are +far enough from Marietta as it is.”</p> +<p>The door was suddenly thrown open by an +old negro “aunty” behind whom stood a neat, +bustling little white woman. The latter was evidently +engaged in the business of preparing supper, +if one might judge from the fact that her bare +arms were almost encaked in flour.</p> +<p>“We are three Kentuckians from Fleming +County on our way to enlist in Chattanooga,” +spoke out Macgreggor, in a voice which seemed +to have the ring of truth in it. “Can we spend +the night here, so that we can cross the river in +the morning?”</p> +<p>The expression of the woman, which had at +first been one of surprise and irritation at being +stopped in her work, softened immediately. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +“Come in,” she said, quickly; “my husband’s +only a farmer, and we can’t give you anything +very fine, but it was never said of Mandy Hare +that she turned away from her house any loyal +friend of the South.”</p> +<p>With that she led her gratified visitors through +a scantily-furnished parlor into a kitchen which +seemed to them like a Paradise. Over the roaring +fire in the great hearth several vessels were +simmering and emitting the most delightful +odors, while a table near by was already set for +the coming meal. On a chair facing the fire a +fat, white cat was purring blissfully. The room +was delightfully warm; the whole scene had an +irresistible attraction and air of domesticity.</p> +<p>“Make yourselves at home,” commanded Mrs. +Hare, cheerfully. “My husband will be home +from Jasper in a few minutes, and then you’ll +have something to eat—such as ’tis.”</p> +<p>At this instant there was a querulous little +bark, which appeared to come from the region +of George Knight’s heart. Mrs. Hare looked +around in surprise; the white cat stirred uneasily. +The next second the boy had shaken his +overcoat, and from out of a large side pocket +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +jumped the diminutive Waggie. The cat, with +one bound, took a flying leap to the kitchen +stairs, and brushing past the half-opened door at +the bottom of the flight, fairly tore up to the +second story, where she disappeared. Waggie +gave a shrill yelp of emotion, but evidently concluded +that it was safer not to chase a strange +and muscular cat in a strange house.</p> +<p>“Gracious me,” cried Mrs. Hare; “did you +bring that little fellow all the way from Kentucky?”</p> +<p>“When I came away he followed me,” replied +George. He spoke the truth, although he did +not add that he “came away” from a Union +camp rather than from Kentucky. Waggie had +been consigned to a member of General Mitchell’s +staff, to remain with him during his owner’s +absence, but George had not proceeded five miles +on his journey before he heard a joyous bark behind +him—and there frisked and capered Waggie. +“You’ll have to turn spy now,” George +said. It was too late to send him back. Thus +the dog joined the party, much to the pleasure +of all concerned.</p> +<p>Hardly had Waggie made his theatrical entrance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +into the kitchen before a lean, prematurely +shriveled man of fifty, whose long shaggy beard +proclaimed him a veritable countryman, came +shambling into the room. At sight of the three +strangers a curious look came into his restless +eyes. It was almost as if the look was one of +triumph. George, observing it, shivered, although +he could hardly say why he did so.</p> +<p>“This is my husband,” explained Mrs. Hare, +with an awkward attempt at courtesy. “These +men,” she continued, addressing her lord and +master, “have the good of the Southern cause at +heart, and are on their way to Chattanooga, to +enlist in the Confederate army.” She cast such +an approving glance upon the wanderers as she +spoke, and was so good-natured, that George’s +heart smote him at the deception which was +being practised upon her. He was a frank, +honest boy, who hated the very idea of appearing +anywhere under false pretences. But he +realized that he was playing a part for the good +of his General, and his General’s cause, and he +resolved to maintain, as well as he could, his new +character of a Southern sympathizer.</p> +<p>Farmer Hare gave to each of the visitors a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +surly recognition. Waggie walked up to him, +sniffed about his boots, and uttered a low growl. +It was plain that the dog did not approve of the +master of the house.</p> +<p>“You fellows are taking a pretty long journey +to serve the South,” remarked Mr. Hare at last, +in a nasal tone sadly at variance with the customary +soft Southern cadence.</p> +<p>“Can he suspect us?” thought Watson. The +same thought went through the mind of Macgreggor, +but he merely said: “We are nearly +at our journey’s end now. By to-morrow we +will be in Chattanooga.”</p> +<p>“Sit down and make yourselves comfortable,” +snarled Hare, with the air of an unwilling host. +The visitors took the chairs which Mrs. Hare +had placed for them at the supper-table. They +were joined by husband and wife, and the negro +“aunty” was soon serving a delicious meal of +corn bread, Irish stew, and other good things. +They all ate with a will, including Waggie, +who was given a private lot of bones by the +fireside. When the supper was over the farmer +arose abruptly. “I s’pose you fellows have had +a pretty long tramp, and want to go to bed,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +said. “We keep good hours in this house, anyway, +and turn in early at night—so that we may +turn out early in the morning.”</p> +<p>“Give them a chance to dry themselves before +the fire,” urged Mrs. Hare.</p> +<p>“Let ’em dry themselves in bed,” muttered +the farmer. Whereupon he lighted a candle, +and turned towards the door leading to the second +story. He was evidently in a great hurry +to get his guests up-stairs. Watson, Macgreggor +and George looked at one another, as if trying +to fathom the cause of their peculiar reception at +the hands of Farmer Hare. But each one silently +decided that their only cue was to be as +polite as possible, and refrain from any altercation +with their host.</p> +<p>“After all,” thought Watson, “if we can +spend the night here we will be off again at +dawn—and then let our surly host take himself +to Kamchatka, for all we care.”</p> +<p>Half an hour later Watson and Macgreggor, +thoroughly tired out, were sound asleep, in one +of the small rooms in the second-story of the +house. George, however, lay tossing from side +to side on a bed in the adjoining room, directly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +over the kitchen, with Waggie curled up on the +floor close by. The more he thought of the +strange behavior of Hare the more uneasy he +became. Why had the farmer regarded him +and his two companions with such a suspicious +glance? Then George suddenly recollected +where he had seen that face before. Yes! +There could be no mistake. While he, Macgreggor +and Watson were dining that day at +the village tavern in Jasper, Hare was loitering +on the porch of the place. But what of that? +The three pretended Kentuckians had told their +usual story, and professed their love for the +Confederacy, and no one there had seemed to +doubt their truthfulness for a moment.</p> +<p>In vain the boy tried to fall asleep. At last, +hearing voices in the kitchen, he rose quietly +from his bed, stole out of his room, and stealthily +walked to the little hallway that led to the +kitchen stairway. At the head of the staircase +he halted. It was clear that Farmer Hare was +saying something emphatic, while his wife was +entering a feeble protest. An intuition told the +listener that his own party was the subject of +discussion. Slowly, cautiously, he crept down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +the stairway, until he almost touched the closed +door which led from it to the kitchen.</p> +<p>“I tell you, woman,” Hare was saying, “these +three fellows are spies of some sort, and the +sooner we have them under arrest the better.”</p> +<p>“I can’t believe it,” murmured the wife.</p> +<p>“I don’t care whether you believe it or not,” +rejoined the husband, in a harsh tone. “Don’t +I tell you that when these two men, and the +boy, were at the tavern in Jasper to-day, one of +the men was recognized by John Henderson. +Henderson is a spy in the service of General +Beauregard, and was in the camp of General +Mitchell only a few days ago, disguised as a +trader. There he saw this fellow—the one with +the brown beard—and he swears there’s no +mistake. But he didn’t tell us in time—the +three disappeared. No; there’s mischief of +some sort brewing here, and I intend to stop it, +if my name’s Hare. We don’t want any spies +around here.”</p> +<p>“Spies!” exclaimed the woman. “Then if +they are caught within our lines they will be +shot!” It seemed as if she shuddered as she +spoke. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p> +<p>“Or hanged,” added the farmer, with an unpleasant +laugh.</p> +<p>“Let them go,” whispered Mrs. Hare, pleadingly. +“I’m just as good a Confederate as you +are, Jake, but don’t let us have the blood of +these fellows on our hands. That nice little +chap with the dog—I would as soon see my own +son get into trouble, if I was lucky enough to +have one, as that bright-eyed boy. Turn ’em +out of the house, Jake, if you suspect them—tell +them to go about their business—but don’t set a +trap for them.” Her voice became almost plaintive. +It was evident that the strangers had +made a favorable impression upon Mrs. Hare, +and that her woman’s feelings revolted at the +idea of betraying them, even though they were +the secret enemies of her cause. “I hate war, +anyway,” she added. “It sets friend against +friend, brother against brother, father against +son, state against state. All this trouble between +the North and South might have been +fixed up without fighting, if there’d been a little +more patience on both sides.”</p> +<p>“Don’t preach,” muttered Hare. “There ain’t +time for it. Where’s Uncle Daniel?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>The listening George did not know that +“Uncle Daniel” was the black farm-hand who +helped Hare, but, from the name, he felt sure +that a slave was meant.</p> +<p>“Uncle Daniel is out in the barn, I reckon,” +answered the wife. “What do you want him +for?”</p> +<p>“Wait and see,” rejoined her husband, gruffly. +With that enigmatical reply he opened a door +leading to the barn, stalked out, and disappeared. +There was a half-stifled cry from Mrs. +Hare, but she apparently made no effort to +detain him. “The Vigilants! Oh! the Vigilants!” +she repeated, in accents of distress.</p> +<p>“The sooner we get out of this the better for +our necks,” thought George. He had no sense +of fear; he was only filled with one consuming +idea. He must get word to his two companions, +and at once. Just what Hare contemplated in +the way of a trap he could not tell, yet it was +evident that the sooner Watson and Macgreggor +were awakened the more chance would all three +have for escaping from whatever fate the farmer +had in store for them.</p> +<p>Cautiously George crept back until he was at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +the door of the room where the two men were +heavily sleeping. His first impulse was to rattle +at the knob; but he recollected in time that this +would make a noise that might bring Mrs. Hare +to the scene. He stood still and reflected. It +would be foolish to invite the attention of her +husband or herself before a plan of action could +be decided upon. For nearly five minutes he +stood in the hallway, wondering how he could +awaken his tired fellows without making a disturbance.</p> +<p>“I wonder if I’m very stupid,” thought the +boy. He could hear the kitchen door open, as +Hare came back into the house, and began talking +to his wife in low tones. He could distinguish +but one word. It was “Vigilants!”</p> +<p>At last he gave a faint exclamation of satisfaction, +and stole back to his own room. Waggie, +who was now lying on the bed, moved +uneasily. George lighted a candle and examined +the plastered wall which ran between his room +and the one where the unconscious Watson and +Macgreggor were gently snoring. He knew that +the bed on which they slept was directly on the +other side of this wall, and he judged that the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +partition itself was very thin. In this theory he +was correct: the laths and their plaster covering +formed a mere shell, which was not much +thicker than an ordinary wooden partition. +Taking a large jack knife from his waistcoat he +began to cut into the wall, about four feet from +the floor. Before long he had made a small hole, +not bigger than the dimensions of a five-dollar +gold piece, straight through the plaster. Looking +through it, with the aid of his candle, he +saw that Watson and Macgreggor were stretched +out in bed on the other side, each half-dressed +and each sleeping as if there were no such thing +in the world as war or danger.</p> +<p>“They deserve a good sleep,” said the boy to +himself; “but it can’t be helped, so here goes!” +At the same moment he extinguished his candle, +pulled it out of the candlestick, and poked it +through the hole. He directed it in such a +way that it fell squarely on the face of Macgreggor. +The man suddenly stopped snoring, +turned his body from one side to the other, and +then started up in the bed, in a half-sitting posture.</p> +<p>“Macgreggor! Mac!” whispered George; +“it’s I, George Knight. Don’t speak loud.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>“Where on earth are you?” asked the newly-awakened +sleeper, in a startled voice.</p> +<p>“Never mind where I am,” answered George. +“Only don’t make a noise. But get up, light +your candle, and open your door for me without +letting them hear you down-stairs.”</p> +<p>By this time Watson was awake too, and had +jumped to the floor. When Macgreggor lighted +his candle, and saw the little hole in the wall, at +which appeared one of George’s eyes, he almost +gave a cry of surprise; but prudence restrained +him, and he merely touched Watson’s +arm, pointed to the hole, and then quietly unlocked +the door of their room. George soon +crept carefully in, and proceeded, in as low a +voice as he could command, to tell the two men +what he had heard from the kitchen.</p> +<p>“The Vigilants!” whispered Watson. “Why, +don’t you know what that means? When we +were in Jasper to-day I saw some of them standing +around the village grocery store, and even +talked with them. They thought I was a good +‘Confed,’ and I found out that they are organized +into a band to arrest suspicious characters, +keep things in order in this section of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +county and even turn guerrillas when they are +wanted.”</p> +<p>“I see the whole thing,” said Macgreggor. +“This Hare has sent his negro over to Jasper to +bring the Vigilants here to take charge of us, +and to string us up, no doubt, to the first convenient +tree. The sooner we get away from here +the better for our lives. Jasper is only two +miles off, and the Vigilants will be riding over +here before we have time to say Jack Robinson.”</p> +<p>“There’s still time,” said George, “and as +there’s only one man here against us now—I +mean Hare—we can seize him, tie him to something, +and then escape into the darkness.”</p> +<p>“So we can, my boy,” replied Watson, who +was thinking as deeply and as calmly as if a +game of chess, rather than a matter of life and +death, were the issue. “There’s no trouble as to +our escaping. But remember this. It’s pitch +dark and raining again like cats and dogs; we +don’t know our way; we are sure to get lost before +we have run fifty yards from the house, and +these Vigilants, who understand every foot of +the country, will divide into small parties, and +hunt us down, as sure as fate. And if they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +can’t, they will put hounds on our track—and +then we’ll be beautifully carved up into beefsteaks. +I have seen hounds, and I know how +they appreciate a nice little man hunt.” Watson +smiled grimly.</p> +<p>Macgreggor walked silently to one of the windows, +opened the sash just a crack, and listened. +He could hear nothing but the downpour of the +rain. Yet it would not be long before the Vigilants +dashed up to the house. No doubt they +had all been telling anecdotes in the corner grocery +store, and they would take but a short time +for the mounting of their horses. Cautiously +closing the window he returned to the centre of +the room.</p> +<p>“It’s a dark night,” he said, “and all the better +for a plan I have to propose. We are each +secretly armed with pistols, are we not? Well, +then, let us put out this candle, and open the +window to the left, looking out towards the highroad +to Jasper. When the Vigilants come riding +up the road and get in front of the house we will +suddenly fire on them. This may cause a panic, +as the fellows will not be able to tell just where +the enemy are, and then——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p> +<p>“Pshaw!” interrupted Watson. “You don’t +know whom you’re dealing with. These Vigilants +are as brave as they are reckless, and there +are at least twenty-five or thirty of them. Three +men can’t frighten them. They would only get +us in the end, even if we did succeed in disabling +one or two of them in the first surprise.”</p> +<p>“Then what are we to do?” asked George +eagerly. Watson was so composed that the boy +felt sure he must have some better plan for escape.</p> +<p>“I have a scheme,” said Watson, quite simply. +“I have been hatching it in my brain while we +were talking. But the quicker it’s put to the +test, the quicker will we save our necks. Are +you willing to trust me blindly?”</p> +<p>There was a whispered “yes” from both the +other conspirators. Watson inspired confidence +by his assurance.</p> +<p>“Then let us get all our clothes, shoes, everything +on at once, and walk boldly down-stairs.”</p> +<p>Three minutes later the trio were marching +down-stairs into the kitchen. Hare and his wife +were standing at the fireplace, looking the picture +of surprise, as their guests burst into the room, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +with the irrepressible Waggie at their heels. The +old negro “aunty,” who had been dozing on a +stool near the hearth, jumped to her rheumatic +feet in consternation. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” +she cried, throwing her withered arms above her +turbaned head. For the guests held revolvers in +their hands, and the “aunty’s” heart always sank +at the thought of gunpowder.</p> +<p>The farmer took a step forward, as if uncertain +what to do or say. At last he said, trying to +smile, yet only succeeding in looking hypocritical: +“You ain’t going to leave us this time of night, +are you? Wait till morning, and get some +breakfast.”</p> +<p>“It’s a nice breakfast you’d give us in the +morning,” laughed Watson, with a significant +look at their host. “A halter stew, or some roast +bullets, I guess!”</p> +<p>Hare jumped backward with such suddenness +that he almost knocked into the fire his frightened +wife who had been standing directly behind +him. “What do you mean?” he hissed.</p> +<p>“You know perfectly well what I mean, Mr. +Hare,” said Watson, looking him straight in the +face, whilst the other spectators listened in breathless +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +interest. “You have sent word to the Jasper +Vigilants to ride over here and arrest us, on +the suspicion of being spies.”</p> +<p>Had the heavens suddenly fallen, the countenances +of the Hares could not have shown more +dismay.</p> +<p>“How did you find that out?” asked the +farmer, quite forgetting to play his part of amiable +host.</p> +<p>“Never mind how,” cried George, who was +burning to play his part. “Only it’s a pity you +haven’t as much mercy in you as your wife +has.”</p> +<p>“Listen,” said Watson, as he motioned the +others in the room to be silent. “George, you +will watch this old negress, and if she attempts +to make a sound, or to leave the room before we +are ready, give her a hint from your revolver.”</p> +<p>With a scream of fright, comical in its intensity, +the “aunty” sank back on her stool near the +hearth, and covered her dark face with her hands. +There she sat, as if she expected to be murdered +at any moment.</p> +<p>“And you, Macgreggor,” continued Watson +impressively, “will keep the same sort of watch +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +over Mrs. Hare. Happen what may, there is not +to be a sound from either woman.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Hare started in confusion. Her husband +made a bound for the kitchen door. With another +bound no less quick Watson darted forward, +caught the farmer, pushed him back at the point +of the pistol, and bolted the door.</p> +<p>“What do you want to do?” demanded Hare. +“Are we to be murdered?”</p> +<p>“No,” cried Watson, “but——”</p> +<p>Then there came the sound of horses’ hoofs in +the distance. Every one listened eagerly, and +none more so than the farmer.</p> +<p>“You’re done for,” he said slowly, casting a +half-malevolent, half-triumphant glance at the +three Northerners.</p> +<p>“Not by a great deal,” said Watson. “March +with me to the parlor, open the front door just a +crack, and, when the Vigilants come up, say to +them that we three men have escaped from the +house, stolen a flatboat, and started to row across +the Tennessee River. Send them away and shut +the door. I will be standing near you, behind +the door, with my pistol leveled at your head. +Make one movement to escape, or say anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +but what I have told you to say, and you are a +dead man!”</p> +<p>The patter of the horses was becoming more +and more distinct.</p> +<p>“Will you do as I tell you?” asked Watson, +very coolly, as he toyed with his revolver.</p> +<p>“If I won’t?” asked Hare. His face was +now convulsed by a variety of emotions—fear, +rage, craftiness, and disappointment.</p> +<p>“I give you three seconds to choose,” said +Watson. “If you refuse, you will be stretched +out on that floor.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Hare, with white cheeks, leaned forward, +and whispered to her husband: “Do as he tells +you, Jake. Better let these Yankees go, and save +your own life.”</p> +<p>“One—two——” counted Watson.</p> +<p>Hare held up his right hand, and then dropped +it listlessly by his side.</p> +<p>“I give in,” he said sullenly. “You’ve got +the better of me.” He looked, for all the world, +like a whipped cur.</p> +<p>There was not a second to lose. The horsemen +were riding up to the house. Watson motioned +to the farmer, who walked into the parlor, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +which was unlighted, closely followed by the +soldier. There were sounds without, as of horses +being reined in, and of men’s gruff voices. Hare +opened the parlor door a few inches, while Watson, +safe from observation, stationed himself +within a few feet of him, with cocked revolver. +“Remember!” he whispered, significantly.</p> +<p>“Is that you, boys?” shouted Hare. “Those +three spies I sent word about escaped from here +ten minutes ago, stole a boat on the bank, down +by the landing, and started to row across the +river.”</p> +<p>“They will never reach the other side a night +like this,” called out some one.</p> +<p>“What did you let ’em get away from you +for?” asked another of the Vigilants.</p> +<p>“How could I help it?” growled the farmer. +“They were well armed—and ’twas three men +against one.”</p> +<p>“Pah! You’ve brought us out on a wild-goose +chase, and on a durned bad night,” came a voice +from the wet and darkness.</p> +<p>“Perhaps they’ll drift back to this side of the +river, and can be caught,” one Vigilant suggested. +But this idea evidently met with little approval. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +It was plain, from what Watson could hear of +the discussion which ensued, that the Vigilants +were disgusted. They were ready, indeed, to +give up the chase, on the supposition that the +three fugitives would either drift down in midstream, +or else be capsized and find a watery +grave.</p> +<p>“Come, we’ll get home again,” commanded a +horseman, who appeared to be the leader. “And +no thanks to you, Jake Hare, for making us +waste our time.”</p> +<p>“Say Jake, won’t you ask us in to have something +warm to drink?” cried another Vigilant.</p> +<p>Watson edged a trifle nearer to Hare, and +whispered: “Send ’em away at once, or +else——”</p> +<p>Once bring the Vigilants into the house, as the +soldier knew, and capture or death would be the +result.</p> +<p>Hare could almost feel the cold muzzle of the +revolver near his head.</p> +<p>“Go away, fellows,” he called, “You know +I ain’t got nothing for you.”</p> +<p>A jeer, and a few sarcastic groans greeted this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +remark. “I always reckoned you was a skinflint,” +yelled one of the party.</p> +<p>There was a derisive cheer at this sally. Then, +at a word of command, the Vigilants turned +their horses and cantered back towards Jasper. +The sound of hoofs became fainter and +fainter.</p> +<p>“Shut the door,” ordered Watson, “and go +back to the kitchen.”</p> +<p>Sullenly the farmer obeyed. When the two +were once more by the blazing hearth, George +and Macgreggor, who had been guarding Mrs. +Hare and the negress, rushed forward to grasp +the hands of their deliverer. They were about +to congratulate him upon his successful nerve +and diplomacy when he interrupted them.</p> +<p>“Don’t bother about that,” he said; “let us +get away from here as soon as possible, before +our kind host has a chance to play us any more +tricks.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you think yourself pretty smart, +don’t you?” snapped Hare, casting a spiteful +glance at Watson.</p> +<p>“So smart,” put in George, “that if you don’t +want to be laughed at from now until the day of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +your death you’d better not tell the citizens of +Jasper about to-night’s occurrences.”</p> +<p>“Come, boys, let us be going,” exclaimed +Watson impatiently, as he offered his hand to +Mrs. Hare, and said to that lady: “Thank you +for the best supper we’ve had since we left—home.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Hare refused to shake hands, but she regarded +Watson with an admiring expression. +“I won’t shake hands with you,” she replied, +half smiling, “for you may be an enemy of the +South, but I’m glad you’ve escaped hanging. +You’ve too much grit for that. As for you, +Jake, don’t ever pretend to us again that you’re +the brainiest man in the county.”</p> +<p>“Hold your tongue, woman,” cried the amiable +farmer.</p> +<p>In a couple of minutes the three travelers were +striking out from the back of the house into the +slush, and rain, and blackness of the night. +Waggie was occupying his usual place inside a +pocket of George’s overcoat. He had supped +regally at the Hares on bacon and bones, and he +felt warm and at peace with the world.</p> +<p>Before the party had more than emerged from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +the garden (a task by no means easy in itself, on +account of the darkness), something whistled by +them, to the accompaniment of a sharp report. +Looking behind them they saw the meagre form +of Hare standing in the kitchen doorway. He +held a rifle in his right hand. The kitchen fire +made him plainly visible.</p> +<p>“Pretty good aim, old boy,” shouted Macgreggor, +“considering you could hardly see us. +But I can see you plainly enough.”</p> +<p>As he spoke he drew his revolver. Hare was +already putting the rifle to his shoulder, preparing +for another shot. He had hardly had a +chance to adjust the gun, however, before he +dropped it with a cry of pain and ran into the +house. A bullet had come whizzing from Macgreggor, +and struck the farmer in his right arm.</p> +<p>“Just a little souvenir to remember me by,” +laughed the lucky marksman.</p> +<p>“Hurry up!” cried Watson. “To-morrow +night we must be in Marietta. We are still +many miles away, and in a hostile, unknown +country.”</p> +<p>So the three pushed on into the gloom. The +prospect of meeting James Andrews at the appointed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +place was not reassuring. Their only +hope was to keep on along the bank of the Tennessee +River until they reached Chattanooga. +From there they could take a train for Marietta.</p> +<p>“Shall we make it?” thought George. Waggie +gave a muffled bark which seemed to say: +“Courage!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_MINGLING_WITH_THE_ENEMY' id='III_MINGLING_WITH_THE_ENEMY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>MINGLING WITH THE ENEMY</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was weary work, this tramping along the +Tennessee shore, through mud, or fields of stubble, +over rocks, or amid dripping trees; but the +three kept on towards Chattanooga for a couple +of hours, until all the good effects of their warming +at Farmer Hare’s were quite vanished. Watson, +having showed by his mother-wit and presence +of mind that he was a man to be relied +upon, had now resumed his privilege of growling, +and gave vent to many angry words at the +roughness and unutterable dreariness of the way.</p> +<p>“Why was America ever discovered by that +inquisitive, prying old Christopher Columbus?” +he grunted, after he had tripped over the stump +of a cottonwood-tree, and fallen flat with his +face in the slime. “If he had never discovered +America there would never have been any +United States; had there never been any United +States there would never have been any war between +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +North and South; had there never been +any war between North and South I wouldn’t +be making a fool of myself by being down here. +I wish that fellow Columbus had never been +born—or, if he was born, that he had never been +allowed to sail off for America. Ugh!”</p> +<p>In a few minutes they reached a log cabin +situated on an angle of land where a little stream +emptied itself into the now stormy waters of the +Tennessee River. There was no light nor sign +of life about the mean abode, and the travelers +were almost upon it before they saw its low outline +in the dense gloom.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said Watson, calling a halt. +“There’s no use in our trying to go further to-night. +It’s too dark to make any sort of time. +And we are far enough away now from Jasper +to avoid any danger of pursuit—even if our +amiable friend Mr. Hare should inform the +Vigilants.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be afraid of that,” said Macgreggor +and George in the same breath. Hare was not +likely to relate a joke so much at his own expense +as their clever escape had proved. Even +if he did, they reasoned, the chances of capture +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +were now rather slim, whatever they might have +been when the three fugitives were nearer Jasper.</p> +<p>“Then let us get a few hours’ sleep in this +cabin,” urged Watson. “Some negro probably +lives here—and we can tell him our usual Kentucky +story. Give the door a pound, George, +and wake him up.”</p> +<p>George used first his hands and then his boots +on the door, in a vain effort to make some one +hear. He took Waggie out of his pocket, and +the shrill little barks of the dog added to the +noise as he jumped around his master’s feet.</p> +<p>“Let’s break the door down,” urged Macgreggor. +“The seven sleepers must live here. +We might pound all night and not get in.”</p> +<p>With one accord the three threw themselves +vigorously against the door. They expected to +meet with some resistance, due to a bolt or two; +but, instead of that, the door flew open so suddenly +that they were precipitated into the cabin, +and lay sprawling on the ground. It had been +latched but neither locked nor bolted.</p> +<p>“We were too smart that time,” growled +Watson, as the three picked themselves up, to +the great excitement of Waggie. “The place +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +must be deserted. So much the better for us. +We can get a little sleep without having to go +into explanations.”</p> +<p>He drew from inside his greatcoat, with much +care, three or four matches. By lighting, first +one and then the others, he was able to grope +around until he found the hearth of the cabin. +Cold ashes marked the remains of a fire long +since extinguished. His foot struck against +something which proved to be a small piece of +dry pine-wood. With the flame from his last +match Watson succeeded in lighting this remnant +of kindling. He carefully nursed the new +flame until the stick blazed forth like a torch. +Then the travelers had a chance to examine the +one room which formed the whole interior of the +lonely place. The cabin was deserted. It contained +not a bit of furniture; nothing, indeed, +save bare walls of logs, and rude mortar, and a +clean pine floor.</p> +<p>“This palace can’t be renting at a very high +price,” remarked Macgreggor, sarcastically.</p> +<p>“It will do us well enough for a few hours’ +sleep,” said George.</p> +<p>Watson nodded his head in assent. “It’s a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +shelter from the rain, at least,” he said, “and +that’s something on such a pesky night.” While +he was speaking the rush of the rain without +confirmed the truth of his words, and suggested +that any roof was better than none. Ere long +the pine stick burned itself out; the intruders +were left in absolute darkness. But they quickly +disposed themselves on the floor, where, worn +out by the fatigues of the day and the stirring +adventure of the evening, they were soon fast +asleep. They had closed the door, near which +Waggie had settled his little body in the capacity +of a sentinel. George dreamed of his +father. He saw him standing at the window of +a prison, as he stretched his hands through the +bars and cried out: “George, I am here—here! +Help me!” Then the boy’s dream changed. He +was back in the dark woods near Shelbyville, +listening to Andrews as the leader outlined the +expedition in which they were now engaged. In +the middle of the conference some one cried: +“The Confederates are on us!” George tried to +run, but something pinned him to the ground—a +wild animal was at his throat.</p> +<p>He awoke with a start, to find that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +Waggie was leaping upon his chest, barking +furiously.</p> +<p>“Hush up, you little rascal!” ordered George. +He felt very sleepy, and he was angry at being +aroused. But Waggie went on barking until he +had succeeded in awakening Macgreggor and +Watson, and convincing his master that something +was wrong.</p> +<p>“What’s the trouble?” demanded Watson.</p> +<p>“Listen,” said George, softly. He was on his +feet in an instant, as he ran first to one and then +to the other of the two windows which graced +the cabin. These windows, however, were barricaded +with shutters. He hurried to the door, +which he opened a few inches. The rain had +now stopped, and he could hear, perhaps a quarter +of a mile away, the sound of horses moving +cautiously through the mud, along the river +bank. In a twinkling Watson and Macgreggor +were at his side, straining their ears.</p> +<p>“Can it be cavalry?” asked Macgreggor.</p> +<p>“Mounted men at least,” whispered Watson. +“Perhaps the Vigilants are on our track, bad +luck to them!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p> +<p>“Can Hare have told them, after all?” queried +George.</p> +<p>“Don’t know about that,” muttered Watson, +“but I think we have the gentlemen from Jasper +to deal with once again.”</p> +<p>“Let’s decamp into the darkness before it’s +too late,” said Macgreggor.</p> +<p>“Come, come,” whispered Watson impatiently. +“If they are on the scent, and we leave this hut, +they will only run us to earth like hounds after +a fox.”</p> +<p>The baying of dogs which were evidently accompanying +the party gave a sudden and terrible +effect to the force of Watson’s argument. And +now the Vigilants, if such they were, came nearer +and nearer. The three Northerners who listened +so anxiously at the doorway could already detect +the sound of voices.</p> +<p>“There’s but one thing for us to do,” quickly +murmured Watson. “We must stay in this +cabin.”</p> +<p>“But they won’t pass the place by,” urged +Macgreggor. “If they know it to be deserted +by a tenant this is the very reason for their +looking in to see if we are hiding here. And +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +when it comes to defending ourselves, how can +we put up any sort of barricade?”</p> +<p>“When you can’t use force, or hide yourself, +try a little strategy,” answered the soldier. +“Can either of you fellows talk like a darky?”</p> +<p>“Not I,” said Macgreggor. Had he been +asked if he could speak Hebrew, he would not +have been more surprised.</p> +<p>“Can you, George?” asked Watson, as he +shut the door.</p> +<p>“I might,” whispered George. “When I was +up in Cincinnati we boys used——”</p> +<p>“Never mind what you boys did—only do as I +tell you, and if you can give a good imitation +you may save us from arrest, and worse!”</p> +<p>The horsemen now seemed to be within a few +yards of the cabin. They had evidently halted +for consultation. Meanwhile Watson was whispering +some instructions to George. After he +had finished he leaned against the door with his +whole weight, and indicated to Macgreggor that +he was to do the same thing. The latter +obeyed in silence.</p> +<p>The horsemen without made a great deal of +clatter. If they were pursuing the fugitives they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +did not seem to think secrecy of movement very +necessary. “Whose cabin is this?” demanded +one of them.</p> +<p>“It did belong to old Sam Curtis, but he’s +moved away, down to Alabama,” some one +answered.</p> +<p>“Some darky may live in it now, eh?” said +the first voice.</p> +<p>“Perhaps it’s empty, and these tarnation +spies are in it,” was the rejoinder in a lower +tone.</p> +<p>The men moved their horses closer to the +house, which they quickly surrounded. No +chance now for any one to escape; it seemed as +if the three men in the cabin must inevitably be +caught like rats in a trap. Yet they waited courageously, +breathlessly. It was a tense moment. +Another minute would decide their fate. Would +they remain free men, or would they fall into the +hands of their pursuers, with all the consequences +that such a capture implied?</p> +<p>Already one of the Vigilants, evidently the +leader, had dismounted. Approaching the door +of the cabin, he gave it a push as if he expected +it would open at once. But there was no yielding; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +Watson and Macgreggor were still leaning +firmly against the other side.</p> +<p>The leader began to knock on the door with a +revolver. “Here, here,” he shouted; “if there’s +any one in this cabin, come out—or we’ll have +you out!”</p> +<p>At first there was no response, save a bark +from Waggie. The leader rattled savagely at +the door. “Let’s break in,” he cried to his companions, +“and see if the place has any one in +it!”</p> +<p>The Vigilants were about to follow the example +of their leader, and dismount when there +came a wheedling voice—apparently the voice of +a negress—from within the cabin.</p> +<p>“What you gemmen want dis time o’ night +wid poor Aunty Dinah?”</p> +<p>“A nigger’s living here,” muttered the leader, +in surprise.</p> +<p>“What for you gwyne to disturb an ole niggah +at dis hour?” asked the voice from within.</p> +<p>“It’s all right, aunty,” called out the leader. +“We only want some information. Come to the +door.”</p> +<p>“In one minute I be with you,” was the answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +“I’se a nursin’ my old man here—he +done gone and took the smallpox—and——”</p> +<p>The smallpox! Had the voice announced that +a million Union troops were descending upon the +party the consternation would not have been +half as great. The smallpox! At the mention +of that dreaded name, and at the thought that +they were so close to contagion, the Vigilants, +with one accord, put spurs into their horses and +rushed madly away. The leader, dropping his +revolver in his excitement, and not even stopping +to pick it up, leaped upon his horse and joined +in the inglorious retreat. On, on, dashed the +men until they reached the town of Jasper, tired +and provoked. Like many other men, North or +South, they were brave enough when it came to +gunpowder, but were quickly vanquished at the +idea of pestilential disease.</p> +<p>“Bah!” cried the leader, as they all reined up +in front of the village tavern, which now looked +dark and uninviting; “those three spies, if spies +they are, can go to Guinea for all I care. I shall +hunt them no more.”</p> +<p>There was a general murmur of assent to this +fervent remark. One of the Vigilants said, in an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +injured tone: “I wish Jake Hare was at the +bottom of the ocean!”</p> +<p>In explanation of which charitable sentiment +it may be explained that Farmer Hare, on the +departure of Watson, Macgreggor and George +Knight, had run all the way to Jasper. Here he +told the Vigilants that the three men had returned +in the boat (which he had previously +declared they had taken) and landed on the bank +of the river. They could be easily caught, he +said. He carefully suppressed any account of the +way in which he had been outwitted by Watson. +The fact was that Hare made up his mind, logically +enough, that the fugitives would keep along +the Tennessee until morning came, and as he had +seen the direction they had taken he determined +to set the Vigilants on their track. His scheme, +as we have seen, was nearly crowned with success.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“A miss is as good as a mile,” laughed Watson, +as he stood with his two companions in the +pitch black interior of the cabin, listening to the +last faint sounds of the retreating Vigilants.</p> +<p>“There’s nothing like smallpox, eh?” said +George. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p> +<p>“Or nothing like a boy who can imitate a +darky’s voice,” put in Macgreggor. “Where +did you learn the art, George?”</p> +<p>“We boys in Cincinnati had a minstrel company +of our own,” the boy explained, “and I +used to play negro parts.”</p> +<p>“I’ll never call the minstrels stupid again,” +said Watson. “They have been instrumental in +saving our lives.”</p> +<p>“Rather say it was your own brains that did +it,” interposed George.</p> +<p>So they talked until daybreak, for they found +it impossible to sleep. Meanwhile the weather +had changed. When the sun came peeping over +the horizon, between tearful clouds, as if afraid +that it was almost too damp for him to be out, +the trio were pushing cautiously along the bank +of the Tennessee, in the direction of Chattanooga.</p> +<p>“I don’t know who brought the Vigilants out +for us the second time, unless it was our dear +friend Hare, and I don’t know whether they will +give us another chase this morning,” said Watson, +as they were laboriously ascending one of +the mountain spurs which led down to the river +shore, “but we must go steadily on, and trust to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +luck. To delay would be fatal. This is Friday—and +we must be in Marietta by this evening.”</p> +<p>On they trudged, over rocks and paths that +would have taxed the ability of a nimble-footed +chamois, as they wondered how the rest of their +friends were faring, and where might be the intrepid +Andrews. Sometimes Waggie scampered +joyously on; sometimes he reposed in his master’s +overcoat. The clouds had now cleared +away; the sun was shining serenely over the +swollen and boisterous waters of the crooked +Tennessee. Nature was once more preparing to +smile.</p> +<p>“I’m getting frightfully hungry,” cried +George, about noon-time. “I wouldn’t mind +a bit of breakfast.”</p> +<p>“There’s where we may get some,” said Macgreggor. +He pointed to an old-fashioned colonial +house of brick, with a white portico, which +they could see in the centre of a large open tract +about a quarter of a mile back of the river. The +smoke was curling peacefully from one of the +two great chimneys, as if offering a mute invitation +to a stranger to enter the house and partake +of what was being cooked within. In a field in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +front of the mansion cattle were grazing, and the +jingle of their bells sounded sweetly in the distance. +No one would dream, to look at such an +attractive picture, that the grim Spectre of War +stalked in the land.</p> +<p>“Shall we go up to the house, and ask for +something?” suggested Macgreggor, who was +blessed with a healthy appetite.</p> +<p>Watson looked a little doubtful. “There’s +no use in our showing ourselves any more than +is necessary,” he said. “Rather than risk our +necks, we had better go on empty stomachs till +we reach Chattanooga.”</p> +<p>But such a look of disappointment crept over +the faces of George and Macgreggor, and even +seemed to be reflected in the shaggy countenance +of Waggie, that Watson relented.</p> +<p>“After all,” he said, “there’s no reason why +there should be any more danger here than in +Chattanooga or Marietta. Let’s make a break +for the house, and ask for a meal.”</p> +<p>Hardly had he spoken before they were all +three hurrying towards the mansion. When at +last they stood under the portico, George seized +the quaint brass knocker of the front door, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +gave it a brisk rap. After some delay a very fat +negress opened the door, and eyed the strangers +rather suspiciously. Their tramp over the country +had not improved their appearance, and her +supercilious, inquisitive look was not strange, +under the circumstances.</p> +<p>“What you folks want?” she asked, putting +her big arms akimbo in an uncompromising +attitude. Watson was about to reply when an +attractive voice, with the soft accent so characteristic +of the Southerners, called: “What is it, +Ethiopia? Any one to see me?”</p> +<p>The next instant a kindly-faced gentlewoman +of about fifty stood in the doorway.</p> +<p>“Is there anything I can do for you?” she +asked pleasantly.</p> +<p>Macgreggor proceeded to tell the customary +story about their being on their way from Kentucky +to join the Confederate army further +south. His heart smote him as he did so, for +she was so gentle and sympathetic in her manner +that he loathed to practice any deception, however +necessary; but there was no help for it. +So he ended by asking for something to eat.</p> +<p>“Come in,” said the mistress of the mansion, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +for such she proved to be, “and take any poor +hospitality I can offer you. My husband, Mr. +Page, and both my children are away, fighting +under General Lee, and I am only too glad to do +anything I can for others who are helping the +great cause.” She smiled sweetly at George, and +patted his dog. The boy regarded her almost +sheepishly; he, too, hated the idea of imposing on +so cordial a hostess.</p> +<p>Mrs. Page led the party into a great colonial +hallway, embellished with family portraits. +“By-the-way,” she added, “there is a Confederate +officer in the house now—Major Lightfoot, +of the —th Virginia Regiment. He reached +here this morning from Richmond and goes to +Chattanooga this afternoon on a special mission.”</p> +<p>Watson bit his lip. “We’re coming to too +close quarters with the enemy,” he thought, and +he felt like retreating from the mansion with his +companions. But it was too late. Such a move +would only excite suspicion, or, worse still, +lead to pursuit. “We must face the thing +through,” he muttered, “and trust to our wits.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Page ushered the strangers, including the +delighted Waggie, into a large, handsomely paneled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +dining-room on the left of the hallway. +She made them gather around an unset table. +“Sit here for a few minutes,” she said, “and the +servants will bring you the best that Page +Manor can offer you. In the meantime, I’ll send +Major Lightfoot to see you. He may be able to +help you in some way.”</p> +<p>She closed the door and was gone. “I wish +this Major Lightfoot, whoever he is, was in Patagonia +at the present moment,” whispered Watson. +“It’s easy enough to deceive the Southern country +bumpkins, and make them think you are Confederates, +but when you get among people with +more intelligence, like officers——”</p> +<p>“What difference does it make?” interrupted +Macgreggor, looking longingly at a mahogany +sideboard. “Didn’t you hear Mrs. Page say the +Major was a Virginian? He doesn’t know anything +about Kentucky.”</p> +<p>“That’s lucky,” laughed Watson, “for we +don’t either.”</p> +<p>“Hush!” came the warning from George. +The door opened, and several negro servants began +to bring in a cold dinner. What a meal it +was too, when the time came to partake of it, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +and how grateful the three hungry travelers felt +to the mistress of the house. When it had been +disposed of, and the servants had left the dining-room, +George said, almost under his breath: +“Hadn’t we better be off? We have a good +number of miles yet, between here and Marietta.”</p> +<p>Watson was about to rise from the table when +the door opened to admit a tall, stalwart man of +about thirty, whose cold, gray-blue eyes and resolute +mouth denoted one who was not to be trifled +with. He was dressed in the gray uniform of a +Confederate officer, but he had, presumably, left +his sword and pistols in another room. The visitors +stood up as he entered.</p> +<p>“Glad to see you, my men,” he said, shaking +hands with each one.</p> +<p>“Is this Major Lightfoot?” asked Watson, +trying to look delighted, but not making a brilliant +success of it.</p> +<p>“Yes,” returned the Major. “I hear you boys +are Kentuckians.”</p> +<p>“We are,” said Macgreggor stoutly; “we are +ready to die for our country, and so we are journeying +southward to enlist.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>“You’re a pretty young chap to take up arms,” +observed the Major, eyeing George keenly.</p> +<p>“One is never too young to do that,” answered +the boy. He was determined to put a bold face +on the affair, and he saw no reason why the Confederate +officer should suspect him if he spoke +up unhesitatingly.</p> +<p>“The South has need of all her loyal sons,” +remarked Watson, who felt no compunction in +deceiving the Major, whatever might have been +his sentiments as to hoodwinking Mrs. Page.</p> +<p>“So you all come from Kentucky?” went on +the officer. “That interests me, for I come from +Kentucky myself!”</p> +<p>The jaws of the three strangers dropped simultaneously. +Had a bomb fallen at their feet +they could not have been more disconcerted. +What did they know about Kentucky, if they +had to be put through a series of cross-questions +by a native! But there was no reason, after all, +why the Major should dwell on the subject.</p> +<p>“I thought Mrs. Page said you belonged to a +Virginia regiment,” exclaimed Macgreggor, almost +involuntarily.</p> +<p>“So I do,” replied the Major, “but I only settled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +in Virginia two years ago. I was born and +bred in Kentucky, and there’s no state like it—now +is there?”</p> +<p>“No!” cried the trio, with a well-feigned attempt +at enthusiasm. They felt that they were +treading on dangerous ground, and resolved to +play their parts as well as they could.</p> +<p>“Do you all come from the same part of Kentucky?” +queried the Major, as he sat down on a +chair, evidently prepared for a pleasant chat.</p> +<p>“From Fleming County,” said Watson carelessly, +quite as if he knew every other county in +the State. “I fear, sir, we must be moving on +towards Chattanooga. We are in a hurry to enlist, +and we have already been delayed too +long.”</p> +<p>The Major completely ignored the latter part +of this sentence. “From Fleming County,” he +said. “Well, that’s pleasant news. I know +Fleming County like a book. There is where my +father lived and died. What part of the county +do you come from?”</p> +<p>Had the Major asked them to tell the area of +the United States in square inches he could not +have propounded a more puzzling question. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>“Dunder and blitzen;” thought Watson. “If +I only knew more of Kentucky geography I +might get myself out of this scrape.”</p> +<p>“We come from the southeastern part of the +county,” said Macgreggor, after an awkward +pause.</p> +<p>“Near what town?”</p> +<p>Another pause. Oh, for the name of a town +in the southeastern part of Fleming County, Kentucky. +The Major was looking at the visitors +curiously. Why this sudden reticence on their +part?</p> +<p>At last Watson spoke up, although evasively. +“We were a long distance from any town; we +worked on adjoining farms, and when the call to +arms came we determined to rush to the rescue +of our beloved Southland.”</p> +<p>The Major gave Watson one searching look. +“Humph!” said he, “that’s all very pretty, and +I’m glad you are so patriotic—but that won’t +do. What is the nearest town to the places you +live in?”</p> +<p>The name of Carlisle flashed through Watson’s +mind. He recalled that it was somewhere in the +part of Kentucky in which Fleming County was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +situated. A man he knew had once lived there. +He would risk it.</p> +<p>“The nearest town is Carlisle,” he said shortly. +“And now, Major, we really must be off! Good-bye!”</p> +<p>He started for the door, followed by George +and Macgreggor, who were both devoutly wishing +that such a state as Kentucky had never existed.</p> +<p>“Wait a second,” suddenly commanded the +Southerner, stepping in front of the door to bar +the way. “You seem to be strangely ignorant +of your own county. Carlisle happens to be in +the adjoining county.”</p> +<p>“Here, sir, we’re not here to be examined by +you, as if we were in the witness box,” cried +Watson, who hoped to carry the situation through +with a strong hand. He would try a little +bluster.</p> +<p>A sarcastic smile crossed the firm face of Major +Lightfoot. “Don’t try to bluff me,” he said +quietly but sternly; “for it won’t work. I see +very clearly that you fellows have never been in +Fleming County, nor do I think you have ever +been in Kentucky at all, for the matter of that. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +You certainly talk more like Yankees than Kentuckians.”</p> +<p>“Then you don’t believe us?” asked Macgreggor, +trying to assume an air of injured innocence.</p> +<p>“Certainly not,” answered the Major. He +folded his arms, and regarded the visitors as if +he were trying to read their inmost thoughts. +“You are lying to me! And as you’ve lied to +me about coming from Kentucky, it’s quite as +likely you’ve lied to me about your being on your +way to enlist in the Confederate army. For all +I know you may be Union spies. In short, my +friends, you are acting in the most suspicious +way, and I put you under arrest!”</p> +<p>George’s heart sank within him. He was not +afraid of being arrested, but to think that he +might never take part in the bridge-burning expedition. +Lightfoot turned the key in the door.</p> +<p>Watson walked up to the Major, and tapped +him on the shoulder. “Look here,” he said, in +the tone of a man who is quite sure of his position. +“You talk about putting us under arrest, +but you’re only playing a game of bluff yourself. +We are three to your one—and I’d like to know +what is to prevent our walking out of this house, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +and knocking you down, too—or, if you prefer, +shooting you—if you attempt to stop us?”</p> +<p>Lightfoot laughed, in a superior sort of way. +“Go, if you want,” he said curtly; “but I don’t +think you’ll go very far.” His eyes glistened, as +if he thought the whole scene rather a good joke. +“Half a mile back of this mansion there’s a squadron +of Confederate cavalry picketed. If I give +them the alarm they’ll scour the whole countryside +for you, and you’ll all be in their hands +within an hour.”</p> +<p>Watson turned pale. It was the paleness of +vexation rather than of fear. “Why were we +fools enough to come to this house,” he thought. +He knew how quickly they could be caught by +cavalrymen.</p> +<p>The Major smiled in a tantalizing manner. “I +think you will take my advice and surrender,” he +said, sitting down carelessly in a chair and swinging +one of his long legs over the other. “If, on +investigation, it proves that you are not spies, +you will be allowed to go on your way. If there’s +any doubt about it, however, you will be sent to +Richmond.”</p> +<p>Macgreggor, with a bound, leaped in front of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +the Confederate, and, pulling out a revolver, +pointed it at Lightfoot’s head. “Unless you +promise not to have us followed, you shan’t leave +this room alive!” he cried with the tone of a man +daring everything for liberty. George fully expected +to see the officer falter, for he had seen +that the Major was unarmed.</p> +<p>But Lightfoot did nothing of the kind. On +the contrary, he gave one of his provoking +laughs. “Don’t go into heroics,” he said, pushing +Macgreggor away as though he were “shoohing” +off a cat. “You know I would promise +anything, and the second your backs were turned +I’d give the alarm. You don’t think I would be +fool enough to see you fellows walking away +without making a trial to get you back?”</p> +<p>Macgreggor hesitated, as he looked at George +and Watson. Then he answered fiercely, handling +his pistol ominously the meanwhile: +“We’ve but one chance—and we’ll take it! We +will never let you leave this room alive, promise +or no promise. You are unarmed, and there are +<i>three</i> of us, armed.”</p> +<p>The Major did not seem to be at all startled. +He merely changed the position of his legs, as he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +answered: “Killing me wouldn’t do you any +good, my boy! If you do shoot me before I can +escape from the room the shooting would only +alarm the house—the cavalry would be summoned +by Mrs. Page, and you would find yourself +worse off even than you are now.”</p> +<p>Watson touched Macgreggor on the shoulder. +“The Major’s right,” he said; “we would only +be shooting down a man in cold blood, and +gaining nothing by it. He has trapped us—and, +so long as those plagued cavalrymen are so +near, we had better submit. I think I’ve got as +much courage as the next man, but I don’t believe +in butting one’s head against a stone wall.”</p> +<p>Macgreggor sullenly replaced his pistol. He +could not but see the force of Watson’s reasoning. +The Major rose to his feet. He was smiling +away again, as if he were enjoying himself.</p> +<p>“We surrender!” announced Watson with a +woebegone expression on his strong face.</p> +<p>“You’ll admit,” said Lightfoot, “that I was +too clever for you?”</p> +<p>There was no answer. George picked up +Waggie. “Can I take my dog along with us, +wherever we go?” he asked.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +<img src='images/illus1.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 285px; height: 432px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 285px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Major Merely Changed the Position of His Legs</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span></div> +<p>The Major suddenly advanced towards George, +and patted the tiny animal. “Hello! Waggie, +how are you, old man?” he cried.</p> +<p>George gasped. “How on earth did you know +Waggie’s name?” he asked. For Waggie had +been chewing at a bone on the floor ever +since the entrance of the Confederate, and his +master had not addressed a word to him during +that time.</p> +<p>“I know his name almost as well as I do +yours, George Knight,” said Lightfoot.</p> +<p>In his excitement George dropped Waggie +on a chair. The three Northerners heard this +last announcement with open-mouthed astonishment.</p> +<p>Lightfoot burst into a great laugh that made +the mystery the more intense. “Why, comrades,” +he cried, “I ought to go on the stage; I +had no idea I was such a good actor. Don’t you +know your friend, Walter Jenks?” The Southern +accent of the speaker had suddenly disappeared.</p> +<p>The listeners stood dumfounded. Then the +whole situation dawned upon them. They had +been most gloriously and successfully duped. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +This Major Lightfoot was none other than Walter +Jenks, a sergeant from General Mitchell’s +camp, whom Andrews had sent out on the bridge-burning +party. He had shaved off his beard, +and assumed a Southern accent (something he +was able to do because he was a Marylander), so +that the guests at the Page mansion had failed to +recognize him.</p> +<p>Jenks shook the three warmly by the hand. +“It was a mean trick to play on you fellows,” he +explained, lowering his voice, “but for the life +of me I couldn’t resist the temptation.”</p> +<p>“How on earth did you turn up here in the +guise of a Confederate officer?” asked Watson, +who now felt a sense of exhilaration in knowing +that he might yet join Andrews at Marietta.</p> +<p>“It is too long a story to tell,” whispered +Jenks. “I’ll only say here that I got lost from +the other two fellows I was traveling with—was +suspected of being a spy in one of the villages I +passed through—and, to avoid pursuit, had to +shave off my beard and disguise myself in this +Confederate uniform, which I was lucky enough +to ‘appropriate.’ I was nearly starved—stumbled +across this place or my way down—told +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +a plausible story (Heaven forgive me for deceiving +so delightful a lady as Mrs. Page)—and +here I am! And the sooner we set off from here, +the sooner we will meet at the appointed town.”</p> +<p>“When the war’s over,” remarked Macgreggor, +“you can earn a fortune on the stage.”</p> +<p>Half an hour later the four Northerners had +taken a grateful farewell of the unsuspecting +Mrs. Page, and were hurrying along the bank of +the Tennessee. By four o’clock in the afternoon +they had reached a point directly opposite Chattanooga. +Here they found a ferryman, just as +they had been given to expect, with his flat +“horse-boat” moored to the shore. He was a +fat, comfortable-looking fellow, as he sat in tailor-fashion +on the little wharf, smoking a corncob +pipe as unconcernedly as though he had nothing +to do all day but enjoy tobacco.</p> +<p>Watson approached the man. “We want to +get across the river as soon as possible,” he explained, +pointing to his companions. “This +officer (indicating Walter Jenks, who retained +his Confederate uniform) and the rest of us must +be in Chattanooga within half an hour.”</p> +<p>The ferryman took his pipe from his mouth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +and regarded the party quizzically. “You may +want to be in Chattanooga in half an hour,” he +said, in a drawling, lazy fashion, “but I reckon +the river’s got somethin’ to say as to that!” He +waved one hand slowly in the direction of the +stream, which was, without a shadow of doubt, +an angry picture to gaze upon. Its waters were +turbulent enough to suggest that a passage across +them at this moment would be attended by great +risk.</p> +<p>But to the anxious travelers any risk, however +great, seemed preferable to waiting. If they +missed the evening train from Chattanooga to +Marietta their usefulness was ended. No bridge-burning +adventure for them!</p> +<p>“I tell you we <i>must</i> get over to-night,” urged +Jenks, who hoped that his uniform would give +him a certain prestige in the eyes of the ferryman. +“I am Major Lightfoot, of the —th +Virginia, and I’m on an important mission. +Every minute is precious!”</p> +<p>“That may be true enough, Colonel,” replied +the man, ignoring the title of “major,” and +taking a whiff from his pipe. “That may be +true enough, but I calculate nature’s got somethin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +to say in this world. And I calculate I +ain’t a-going to risk my life, and the happiness +of my wife and five children, by tryin’ to stem +the Tennessee in this turmoil.”</p> +<p>George’s heart sank within him. To be so +near the realization of his dream of adventure, +and to be stopped at the eleventh hour by this +stupid, cautious boatman! Waggie, who had +been frisking near him, suddenly became +solemn.</p> +<p>Watson pulled from his coat a large pack of +Confederate money. “There’s money for you,” +he cried, “if you’ll take us over!”</p> +<p>The ferryman eyed him in a sleepy way, and +took another pull at that provoking pipe.</p> +<p>“Money!” he said, after a long pause, during +which the Northerners gazed at him as if their +very lives depended on his decision. “Money! +What’s the use to me of money, if we all get +drowned crossing over?”</p> +<p>As he spoke the river roared and rushed downwards +on its course with a heedlessness that +quite justified him in his hesitation. “Wait till +to-morrow morning, and the Tennessee will be +quieter. Then I’ll help you out.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p> +<p>“Wait till doomsday, why don’t you say?” +thundered Jenks. “We must take the risk—and +I order you to take us over, at once!”</p> +<p>“You may be a very big man in the army,” +answered the ferryman, “but your orders don’t +go here!” He produced a small tin box from +the tail of his coat, leisurely poured from it into +his pipe some strong tobacco, and slowly lighted +the stuff. Then he arose, walked to the edge of +the wharf, and beckoned to a lad of nine or ten +years old who was half asleep in the boat. The +boy jumped up, leaped upon the wharf, and ran +off along the river’s bank in the opposite direction +from which the four strangers had come. He +had received a mysterious order from the ferryman.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter now?” asked Macgreggor, +who had a strong desire to knock down this +imperturbable fellow who refused to be impressed +even by a Confederate uniform.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” replied the man, stolidly. He sat +down again, crossed his legs, and took a long +pull at the pipe.</p> +<p>“For the last time,” shouted Jenks, shaking +his fist in the smoker’s face, “I order you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +to take out that boat, and ferry us across the +river!”</p> +<p>“For the last time,” said the man, very calmly, +“I tell you I’m not going to risk my life for four +fools!”</p> +<p>George walked up closer to Watson, and whispered: +“Let’s seize the boat, and try to cross +over ourselves!”</p> +<p>Watson beckoned to his two companions, and +told them what the boy suggested.</p> +<p>“We will be taking our lives in our hands,” +said Jenks, “but anything is better than being +delayed here.”</p> +<p>“Besides,” added Macgreggor, “although the +river <i>is</i> pretty mischievous-looking, I don’t +think it’s any more dangerous than waiting +here.”</p> +<p>Jenks took out his watch, and looked at it. +“I’ll give you just five minutes,” he said, addressing +the ferryman, “and if by that time you +haven’t made up your mind to take us over the +river, we’ll take the law into our own hands, +seize your boat, and try the journey ourselves.” +Waggie began to bark violently, as if he sympathized +with this speech. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p>The man smiled. “That will be a fool trick,” +he answered. “If it’s dangerous for me, it’ll be +death for you uns. Better say your prayers, +partner!”</p> +<p>“Only four minutes left!” cried Jenks, resolutely, +keeping an eye on the watch.</p> +<p>The ferryman closed his eyes and resumed his +smoking. The others watched him intently. +Meanwhile George was thinking. Two minutes +more passed. The boy was recalling a saying of +his father’s: “Sometimes you can taunt an obstinate +man into doing things, where you can’t +reason with him.”</p> +<p>“Time is up!” said Jenks, at last. “Come, +boys, let’s make a break for the boat!”</p> +<p>The ferryman placed his pipe on the ground +with the greatest composure. “Take the boat +if you want,” he observed, rising to his feet, +“but you fellows won’t get very far in it! Look +there!”</p> +<p>He pointed up the river’s bank. The boy who +had been sent away a few minutes before was +coming back to the wharf; he was now, perhaps, +a quarter of a mile away, but he was not alone. +He was bringing with him five Confederate soldiers, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +who were walking briskly along with +muskets at right shoulder.</p> +<p>“You fellows looked kind o’ troublesome,” explained +the ferryman, “so as there’s a picket up +yonder I thought I’d send my son up for ’em!”</p> +<p>Watson made a move towards the boat. +“Better stay here,” cried the ferryman; “for +before you can get a hundred feet away from +the bank in this contrary stream those soldiers +will pick you off with their muskets. D’ye want +to end up as food for fishes?”</p> +<p>The men groaned in spirit. “It’s too late,” +muttered Jenks. He could picture the arrival at +Marietta of all the members of the expedition +save his own party, and the triumphal railroad +escapade the next day. And when the Northern +newspapers would ring with the account of the +affair, his own name would not appear in the list +of the brave adventurers.</p> +<p>Suddenly George went up to the ferryman, +and said, with much distinctness: “I see we +have to do with a coward! There’s not a boatman +in Kentucky who wouldn’t take us across +this river. Even a Yankee wouldn’t fear it. +But you are so afraid you’ll have to get your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +feet wet that you actually send for soldiers to +protect you!”</p> +<p>George’s companions looked at him in astonishment. +The boatman, losing his placidity, +turned a deep red. “Take care, young fellow,” +he said, in a voice of anger; “there’s not a man +in Tennessee who dares to call Ned Jackson a +coward!”</p> +<p>“I dare to call you a coward unless you take +us over to Chattanooga!” answered the boy, +sturdily. “You’re afraid—and that’s the whole +truth!”</p> +<p>Jackson’s face now underwent a kaleidoscopic +transformation ranging all the way from red to +purple, and then to white. All his stolidity had +vanished; he was no longer the slow countryman; +he had become the courageous, impetuous +Southerner.</p> +<p>“If you weren’t a boy,” he shouted, “I’d +knock you down!”</p> +<p>“That wouldn’t prove your bravery,” returned +George, regarding him with an expression of +well-feigned contempt. “That would only show +you to be a bully. If you have any courage in +your veins—the kind of courage that most Southerners +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +have—prove it by taking us across the +river.”</p> +<p>The soldiers were gradually drawing near the +wharf. Meanwhile George’s companions had +caught his cue. He was trying to goad Jackson +into ferrying them over the riotous stream.</p> +<p>“Humph!” said Macgreggor; “a good boatman +is never afraid of the water; but our friend +here seems to have a consuming fear of it!”</p> +<p>“He ought to live on a farm, where there is +nothing but a duck pond in the shape of water,” +added Jenks. Jackson was actually trembling +with rage; his hands were twisting nervously.</p> +<p>Watson eyed him with seeming pity, as he +said: “It’s a lucky thing for you that you didn’t +enlist in the Confederate army. You would have +run at the first smell of gunpowder!”</p> +<p>Jackson could contain his wrath no longer. +“So you fellows think I’m a coward,” he cried. +“Very well! I’ll prove that I’m not! Get into +my boat, and I’ll take you across—or drown you +all and myself—I don’t care which. But no man +shall ever say that Ned Jackson is a coward!” +He ran to the boat, leaped into it and beckoned +to the Northerners. “Come on!” he shouted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +Within a minute George, Macgreggor, Watson +and Jenks were in the little craft, and the ferryman +had unmoored it from the wharf.</p> +<p>“Never mind,” he cried, waving his hand to +the soldiers, who had now reached the wharf. +“I don’t want you. I’m going to ferry ’em over +the river—or go to the bottom! It’s all right.”</p> +<p>Already were the voyagers in midstream, almost +before they knew it. It looked as if Jackson, +in his attempt to prove his courage, might +only end by sending them all to the bottom. +Waggie, who was now reposing in a pocket of +George’s coat, suddenly gave a low growl. +George produced from another pocket a bone +which he had brought from Mrs. Page’s house, +and gave it to the dog.</p> +<p>“Well,” laughed Watson, in unconcern, “if +Wag’s to be drowned, he’ll be drowned on a full +stomach—and that’s one consolation.”</p> +<p>“He’s the only critter among you as has got +any sense,” snarled the ferryman; “for he’s the +only one who didn’t ask to be taken across this +infarnal river!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_PLOT_AND_PLOTTERS' id='IV_PLOT_AND_PLOTTERS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>PLOT AND PLOTTERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>In after years George could never quite understand +how he and his companions reached the +Chattanooga shore. He retained a vivid recollection +of tempestuous waves, of a boat buffeted +here and there, and of Ned Jackson muttering all +manner of unkind things at his passengers and +the turbulent stream. They did at last reach +their destination, and bade farewell to the ferryman, +whom they loaded down with Confederate +notes.</p> +<p>No sooner was the latter embarked on the return +voyage than Watson said: “That was a +clever ruse of yours, George. That Jackson was +a brave man at heart, and you put him on his +mettle. He wanted to show us that he wasn’t +afraid of the water—and he succeeded.”</p> +<p>George laughed. He explained that it was a +remark of his father’s which had put the idea into +his own head, and then he wondered where that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +same father could be. Was he dead or was he +still living, perhaps in some prison?</p> +<p>It was not long before the party reached the +railroad station at Chattanooga. Here they purchased +their tickets for Marietta, and were soon +in the train bound southward for the latter place. +The sun had nearly set as the engine pulled slowly +out of the depot. The car in which they sat was +filled with men on their way down South, some +of them being soldiers in uniform and the rest +civilians. Macgreggor, Watson and Jenks were +at the rear end of the car, while George had to +find a seat at the other end, next to a very thin +man who wore the uniform of a Confederate +captain.</p> +<p>“Isn’t it strange?” thought the boy. “To-morrow +morning we will be reversing our journey on +this railroad, and burning bridges on our way +back to Chattanooga. But how are we to steal a +train? I wonder if Andrews and the rest of the +party will be on hand to-night at Marietta.” +Then, as he realized that he was in a car filled +with men who would treat him as a spy, if they +knew the nature of his errand to the South, there +came over him a great wave of homesickness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +He had lived all his life among friends; it was +for him a new sensation to feel that he was secretly +opposed to his fellow-travelers.</p> +<p>The thin Captain who sat next to him turned +and curiously regarded Waggie, who was lying +on his master’s lap. He had shrewd gray eyes, +had this Captain, and there was a week’s growth +of beard upon his weazened face.</p> +<p>“Where did you get your dog from, lad?” he +asked, giving Waggie a pat with one of his skeleton-like +hands. It was a pat to which the little +animal paid no attention.</p> +<p>“From home—Cincinnati.”</p> +<p>George had answered on the spur of the moment, +thoughtlessly, carelessly, before he had a +chance to detect what a blunder he was making. +The next second he could have bitten out his +tongue in very vexation; he felt that his face +was burning a bright red; he had a choking sensation +at the throat.</p> +<p>The emaciated Captain was staring at him in a +curiously surprised fashion. “From Cincinnati? +Cincinnati, Ohio?” he asked, fixing his lynx-like +eyes attentively upon his companion.</p> +<p>Poor George! Every idea seemed to have left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +him in his sudden confusion; he was only conscious +that the Confederate officer continued to +regard him in the same intent manner. “I say,” +repeated the latter, “is your home in Ohio?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Cincinnati, Ohio,” said the boy boldly. +“After all,” as he thought, “I had better put a +frank face on this stupidity of mine; a stammering +answer will only make this fellow the more +suspicious.”</p> +<p>“So then you’re a Northerner, are you, my +son?” observed the Captain. “I thought you +spoke with a bit of a Yankee accent!”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’m a Northerner,” answered George. +As he felt himself plunging deeper and deeper +into hot water he was trying to devise some +plausible story to tell the officer. But how to +invent one while he was being subjected to that +close scrutiny. One thing, at least, was certain. +Once he had admitted that his home was in Ohio +he could not make any use of the oft repeated +Kentucky yarn.</p> +<p>“And what are you doing down here?” asked +the Captain. He spoke very quietly, but there +was an inflection in his voice which seemed to +say: “Give a good account of yourself—for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +your presence in this part of the country is curious, +if nothing more.”</p> +<p>George understood that he must think quickly, +and decide on some plan of action to cover up, if +he could, any bad results from his blunder. He +was once more cool, and he returned the piercing +look of the officer with steadfast eyes. His mind +was clear as to one thing. There was no need of +his trying to invent a story, on the spur of the +moment, with a man like the Captain quite ready +to pick it to pieces. For it was plain that this +Confederate was shrewd—and a trifle suspicious. +The boy must pursue a different course.</p> +<p>“My being down South is my own concern,” +he said, pretending to be virtuously offended at +the curiosity of his inquisitor.</p> +<p>The Captain drew himself up with an injured +air. “Heigh ho!” he muttered; “my young infant +wants me to mind my own business, eh?”</p> +<p>George flushed; he considered himself very +much of a man, and he did not relish being called +an “infant.” But he kept his temper; he foresaw +that everything depended upon his remaining +cool. He treated the remark with contemptuous +silence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span></p> +<p>The officer turned away from him, to look out +of the window of the car. Yet it was evident +that he paid little or no attention to the rapidly +moving landscape. He was thinking hard. Not +a word was spoken between the two for ten +minutes. Most of the other passengers were +talking excitedly among themselves. Occasionally +a remark could be understood above the rattle +of the train. George heard enough to know +they were discussing the battle of Shiloh, which +had been fought so recently.</p> +<p>“I tell you,” cried a soldier, “the battle was a +great Confederate victory.”</p> +<p>“That may be,” answered some one, “but if +we have many more such victories we Southerners +will have a lost cause on our hands, and Abe +Lincoln will be eating his supper in Richmond +before many months are gone.”</p> +<p>At this there was a chorus of angry dissent, +and several cries of “Traitor!” George listened +eagerly. He would dearly have liked to look behind +him, to see what his three companions were +doing, or hear what they were saying, at the +other end of the car. But he was not supposed +to know them. He could only surmise (correctly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +enough, as it happened) that they were acting +their part of Southerners, although doing as little +as possible to attract attention. One thing +worried the young adventurer. He distrusted the +continued silence of the Captain.</p> +<p>It was a silence that the officer finally broke, +by looking squarely into George’s face, and saying, +in a low tone: “When a Northerner travels +down South these times he must give an account +of himself. If you won’t tell me who you are, +my friend, I may find means of making you!”</p> +<p>As he spoke the train was slowing up, and in +another minute it had stopped at a little station.</p> +<p>“Now or never,” thought George. He arose, +stuffed Waggie into his pocket, and said to the +Captain: “If you want to find out about me, +write me. This is my station. Good-bye!”</p> +<p>The next instant he had stepped out of the +car, and was on the platform. He and an elderly +lady were the only two passengers who alighted. +No sooner had they touched the platform than +the train moved on its way, leaving the Captain +in a state of angry surprise, as he wondered +whether he should not have made some effort to +detain the boy. It was too late to do anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +now, and the officer, as he is carried away on the +train, is likewise carried out of our story.</p> +<p>What were the feelings of Watson, and Jenks, +and Macgreggor as they saw George leave the +car, and the train rattled away? They were +afraid to make any sign; and even if they had +thought it prudent to call out to the lad, or seek +to detain him, they would not have found time +to put their purpose into execution, so quickly +had the whole thing happened. Not daring to +utter a sound, they could only look at one another +in blank amazement. “What was the boy +up to,” thought Watson, “and what’s to become +of him?” He was already devotedly attached +to George, so that he felt sick at heart when he +pictured him alone and unprotected at a little +wayside village in the heart of an enemy’s country. +Nor were the other two men less solicitous. +Had George suddenly put on wings, and flown +up through the roof of the car, they could not +have been more horrified than they were at this +moment. Meanwhile the train went rumbling +on, as it got farther and farther away from the +little station. It was now almost dark; the +brakeman came into the car and lighted two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +sickly lamps. Some of the passengers leaned +back in their seats and prepared to doze, while +others, in heated, angry tones, kept up the discussion +as to the battle of Shiloh. The civilian +who had hinted that the engagement was not a +signal victory for the Confederates got up and +walked into a forward car, to rid himself of the +abuse and arguments of several of his companions.</p> +<p>Watson was sorely tempted to pull the check +rope of the train, jump out, and walk back on +the track until he found the missing boy; but +when he reflected on the possible consequences +of such a proceeding he unwillingly admitted to +himself that to attempt it would be the part of +madness. He would only bring the notice of +every one in the train upon himself; suspicion +would be aroused; he and his companions might +be arrested; the whole plot for burning the +bridges might be upset.</p> +<p>“What can have gotten into George’s head?” +he said to himself a hundred times. Jenks and +Macgreggor were asking themselves the same +question. Steadily the train went on, while the +sky grew darker and darker. In time most of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +passengers fell asleep. Occasionally a stop would +be made at some station. Marietta, in Georgia, +would not be reached until nearly midnight.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>“Where had George gone?” the reader will +ask. The question is not so hard to answer as it +may seem. The moment that the Captain had +become inquisitive the boy had made up his mind +that the sooner he could get away from that +gentleman the better it would be for the success +of Andrews’ expedition. He saw that the train +stopped at different stations along the road, and +he began to map out a scheme for escape. Thus, +when the cars came to the place already spoken +of, he jumped out, as we have described, and +stood on the platform with the elderly lady who +had alighted almost at the same instant. The +latter passed on into the station, and left the +platform deserted, except for George. Hardly +had she disappeared before the conductor pulled +the check-rope, and the train began to move. +As it slowly passed by him the boy quickly +jumped upon the track, caught hold of the coupling +of the last car, and hung there, with his +knees lifted up almost to his chin. In another +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +second he had grasped the iron railing above +him; within a minute he had raised himself and +clambered upon the platform. The train was +now speeding along at the customary rate. As +George sat down on the platform, he gave a sigh +of relief. No one had seen him board the car. +For all that the inquisitive Captain knew he +might still be standing in front of the station. +And what were Watson, Jenks and Macgreggor +thinking about his sudden exit from the scene? +George laughed, in spite of himself, as he pictured +their amazement. He would give them a +pleasant surprise later on, when they reached +Marietta. In the meantime he would stay just +where he was, if he were not disturbed, until +they arrived at that town. Then it would be +late at night, when he could evade the lynx-eyed +Confederate officer.</p> +<p>Having settled his plans comfortably in his +mind George was about to put his hand in his +coat pocket to give a reassuring pat to Waggie +(who had been sadly shaken up by his master’s +scramble) when the door of the car opened. A +man put out his head, and stared at the boy.</p> +<p>“What are you doing here, youngster?” asked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +the man. George recognized him as the conductor +of the train.</p> +<p>“Only trying to get a breath of fresh air,” replied +the lad, at the same time producing his +railroad ticket and showing it in the dusk. The +conductor flashed the lantern he was holding in +George’s face, and then glanced at the ticket.</p> +<p>“Well, don’t fall off,” he observed, evidently +satisfied by the scrutiny. “You were in one of +the forward cars, weren’t you? Where’s your +dog? In your pocket, eh?” He turned around, +shut the door, and went back into the car without +waiting for an answer.</p> +<p>“One danger is over,” whispered George to +himself. Then he began to pat Waggie. “You +and I are having an exciting time of it, aren’t +we?” he laughed. “Well, there’s one consolation; +they can’t hang you for a spy, anyway, +even if they should hang me!”</p> +<p>So the night passed on, as George clung to the +railing of the platform, while the train rumbled +along in the darkness to the Southward. The +conductor did not appear again; he had evidently +forgotten all about the boy. At last, +when Waggie and his master were both feeling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +cold, and hungry, and forlorn, there came a welcome +cry from the brakeman: “Marietta! All +out for Marietta!”</p> +<p>In a short time the passengers for Marietta +had left the train. Watson, Jenks and Macgreggor +were soon in a little hotel near the station, +which was to be the rendezvous for Andrews and +his party. As they entered the office of the +hostelry all their enthusiasm for the coming escapade +seemed to have vanished. The mysterious +disappearance of George had dampened their +ardor; they feared to think where he could be, +or what might have become of him.</p> +<p>The office was brilliantly lighted in spite of the +lateness of the hour. In it were lounging eight +or nine men. The pulses of the three newcomers +beat the quicker as they recognized in +them members of the proposed bridge-burning +expedition. Among them was Andrews.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he was saying, in a perfectly natural +manner, to the hotel clerk, who stood behind a +desk; “we Kentuckians must push on early tomorrow +morning. The South has need of all the +men she can muster.”</p> +<p>“That’s true,” answered the clerk; “Abe Lincoln +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +and Jefferson Davis have both found out by +this time that this war won’t be any child’s play. +It’ll last a couple of years yet, or my name’s not +Dan Sanderson.”</p> +<p>Macgreggor and Jenks walked up to the register +on the desk, without showing any sign of +recognition, and put down their names respectively +as “Henry Fielding, Memphis, Tennessee,” +and “Major Thomas Brown, Chattanooga.” The +latter, it will be remembered, wore a Confederate +uniform. Watson wrote his real name, in a bold, +round hand, and added: “Fleming County, +Kentucky.” Then he turned towards Andrews. +“Well, stranger,” he said, “did I hear you say +you were from Kentucky? I’m a Kentuckian +myself. What’s your county?”</p> +<p>He extended his right hand and greeted Andrews +with the air of a man who would like to +cultivate a new acquaintance. Andrews rose, of +course, to the occasion, by answering: “I’m +always glad to meet a man from my own state. +I’m from Fleming County.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be struck!” cried Watson. “That’s +my county, too! What part of it do you live +in?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p> +<p>After a little more of this conversation, which +was given in loud tones, the two men withdrew +to a corner and sat down. “We are all here +now except two of our men,” said Andrews, in a +low voice. “Half of the fellows have gone to +bed, thoroughly tired out. But where’s George? +Isn’t he with you?”</p> +<p>“It makes me sick to think where he is,” whispered +Watson, “for——”</p> +<p>Before he could finish his sentence George entered +the office, followed by Waggie. He had +lingered about the Marietta Station, after leaving +the platform of the car, until he was safe +from meeting the Captain, in case that gentleman +should have alighted at this place. Then he +had cautiously made his way to the hotel.</p> +<p>Watson rose as quietly as if the appearance of +George was just what he had been expecting. +“What did you lag behind at the station for, +George?” he asked. Then, turning to Andrews, +he said: “Here’s another Kentuckian, sir—a +nephew of mine. He wants to join the Confederate +army, too.”</p> +<p>George, as he shook hands with Andrews quite +as if they had never met each other before, could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +not help admiring the presence of mind of +Watson.</p> +<p>“You young rascal,” whispered the latter, +“you have given me some miserable minutes.”</p> +<p>“Hush!” commanded Andrews, in the same +tone of voice. “We must not talk together any +more. As soon as you go up-stairs to bed you +must come to my room—number 10, on the second +floor, and get your instructions for to-morrow. +Everything has gone very smoothly so +far, and we are all here excepting two of us, although +some of us have had a pretty ticklish time +in getting through to this town. Remember—Room +Number 10.”</p> +<p>Andrews moved away. Soon all the members +of the party assembled at the hotel were in their +rooms up-stairs, presumably asleep, with the exception +of George and his three companions. +They were able, after considerable coaxing, to get +admittance into the dining-room. Thereby they +secured a nocturnal meal of tough ham, better +eggs, and some muddy “coffee.” The latter was +in reality a concoction consisting of about seven-eights +of chickory, and the other eighth,—but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +what the remaining eighth was only the cook +could have told. The meal tasted like a Delmonico +feast to the famished wanderers, nor was +it the less acceptable because they saw it nearly +consumed before their hungry eyes; for Waggie, +who had a power of observation that would have +done credit to a detective, and a scent of which a +hound might well have been proud, made his way +into the dining-room in advance of the party, and +jumped upon the table while the negro waiter’s +back was turned. As George entered, the dog +was about to pounce upon the large plate of ham. +Mr. Wag cast one sheepish look upon his master, +and then retired under the table, where he had +his supper later on.</p> +<p>After they had finished their meal, the four +conspirators were taken up-stairs by a sleepy bell-boy, +and shown into a large room containing two +double beds. The servant lighted a kerosene +lamp that stood on a centre table, and then shuffled +down to the office.</p> +<p>Macgreggor lifted the lamp to take a survey +of the room. “Take a good look at those beds, +fellows,” he said, with a grim chuckle; “it may +be a long time before you sleep on such comfortable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +ones again. For if we come to grief in this +expedition——”</p> +<p>“Pshaw!” interrupted Jenks impatiently, but +in subdued tones. “Don’t borrow trouble. We +are bound to succeed.”</p> +<p>Macgreggor placed the lamp on the centre table, +and began to take off his shoes. “I’m just as +ready as any of you for this scheme,” he answered, +“but I can’t shut my eyes to the risks we are +running. Did you notice on your way down that +the railroad sidings between Chattanooga and +Marietta were filled with freight cars? That +means, to begin with, that we won’t have a clear +track for our operations to the Northward.”</p> +<p>Watson smiled rather grimly. “The more we +appreciate the breakers ahead of us,” he whispered, +“the less likely are we to get stranded on +the beach. But we really can’t judge anything +about the outlook for to-morrow until we get our +detailed instructions from Andrews.”</p> +<p>As he spoke there was a very faint tap at the +door. The next moment Andrews had cautiously +entered the room. He was in stocking feet, and +wore neither coat nor waistcoat.</p> +<p>“I thought it better to hunt you fellows up,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +he explained, in a voice that they could just hear, +“instead of letting you try to find me. I was +listening when the boy showed you up to this +room.” He proceeded to sit upon one of the beds, +while his companions gathered silently around +him. “Listen,” he continued, “and get your instructions +for to-morrow—for after we separate +to-night there will be no time for plotting.</p> +<p>“To-morrow we must reverse our journey and +take the early morning train to the northward, +on this Georgia State Railroad. In order to +avoid suspicion, we must not all buy tickets for +the same station. In point of fact we are only +to go as far as Big Shanty station, near the foot +of Kenesaw Mountain, a distance of eight miles. +Here passengers and railroad employees get off +for breakfast, and this is why I have selected the +place for the seizure of the train. Furthermore, +there is no telegraph station there from which +our robbery could be reported. When we board +the train at Marietta we must get in by different +doors, but contrive to come together in one car—the +passenger car nearest the engine. After +all, or nearly all but ourselves have left the cars +at Big Shanty for breakfast, I will give the signal, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +when the coast is clear, and we will begin +the great work of the day—that of stealing the +locomotive.”</p> +<p>Here Andrews went into a detailed description +of what each man in the expedition (he had +now twenty-one men, including himself, and not +counting George) would do when the fateful moment +arrived. George, who sat listening with +open mouth, felt as if he were drinking in a romantic +tale from the “Arabian Nights,” or, at +least, from a modern version of the “Nights,” +where Federal soldiers and steam engines would +not be out of place. He thrilled with admiration +at the nicety with which Andrews had +made all his arrangements. It was like a general +entering into elaborate preparations for a +battle. The two soldiers who were to act as +engineers, those who were to play brakemen, and +the man who was to be fireman, had their work +carefully mapped out for them. The other men +were to form a guard who would stand near the +cars that were to be seized; they were to have +their revolvers ready and must shoot down any +one who attempted to interfere.</p> +<p>“We must get off as quickly as possible,” went +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +on the intrepid Andrews. “From what I hear +to-night it is evident that General Mitchell captured +Huntsville to-day, which is one day sooner +than we expected him to do it. We must cut all +telegraph wires and then run the train northward +to Chattanooga, and from there westward +until we meet Mitchell advancing towards Chattanooga +on his way from Huntsville. I have +obtained a copy of the time-table showing the +movement of trains on the Georgia State Railroad, +and I find we have only two to meet on +our race. These two won’t trouble us, for I +know just where to look for them. There is +also a local freight-train which can be passed if +we are careful to run according to the schedule +of the captured train until we come up to it. +Having gotten by this local freight we can put +on full steam, and speed on to the Oostenaula +and Chickamauga bridges, burn them, and run +on through Chattanooga to Mitchell. There’s a +glorious plan for you fellows. What do you +think of it?”</p> +<p>There was a ring of pride in his lowered voice +as he concluded.</p> +<p>“Admirable!” whispered Walter Jenks, “It’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +a sure thing, and the man who invented the +scheme has more brains than half the generals in +the war!”</p> +<p>As George pictured to himself the stolen train +flying along the tracks, in the very heart of the +enemy’s country, he could hardly restrain his enthusiasm. +“It’s grand!” he murmured. Had +he dared he would have given a great +cheer.</p> +<p>The leader smiled as he saw, in the dim lamplight, +the radiant face of the boy. “You have +lots of grit, my lad,” he said, in a kindly fashion, +“and God grant you may come out of this business +in safety.” Then, turning to Watson, he +asked: “How does my plan, as now arranged, +impress you, Watson?”</p> +<p>After a minute’s silence, during which the +others in the room gazed intently at Watson, +that soldier said: “I have as great an admiration +for James Andrews as any one of our party, +and I am ready to follow wherever he leads. +Whatever my faults may be, I’m not a coward. +But we should look carefully on each side of a +question—and I can’t help thinking that owing +to circumstances which we have not taken into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +account our expedition stands a very decided +chance of failure.”</p> +<p>“What are those circumstances?” asked Andrews.</p> +<p>“In the first place,” was the reply, “I find +that there is a large encampment of Confederate +troops at Big Shanty. Escape in a captured +train would have been very easy while those +soldiers were elsewhere; but, being there, do +you suppose that the sentries of the camp will +stand idly by when we seize cars and locomotive +and attempt to steam away to the northward? +In the second place—and this is no less important—the +railroad seems to be obstructed by +numerous freight trains, probably not on the +schedule, and flying along the track towards +Chattanooga will not be as plain sailing as you +believe. One unlooked-for delay might be fatal. +We are in the midst of enemies, and should there +be one hitch, one change in our program, the result +will be failure, and perhaps death, for all +of us.”</p> +<p>There was a painful silence. At last Andrews +said, very quietly, but with an air of strong conviction: +“I think the very objections you urge, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +my dear Watson, are advantages in disguise. I +know, as well as you, that there’s a big encampment +at Big Shanty, but what of it? No one +dreams for one second that there is any plot to +capture a train, and no one, therefore, will be on +the lookout. The thing will be done so suddenly +that there will be no chance for an alarm until +we are steaming off from the station—and then +we can laugh. If we strike any unscheduled +trains, they too will be to our advantage; for +they will make such confusion on the road that +they will detract attention from the rather suspicious +appearance of our own train.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps you are right,” answered Watson, +rather dubiously.</p> +<p>Andrews arose from the bed, and solemnly +shook hands with each of his four companions. +Then he said, very impressively: “I am confident +of the success of our enterprise, and I will +either go through with it or leave my bones to +bleach in ‘Dixieland.’ But I don’t want to +persuade any one against his own judgment. If +any one of you thinks the scheme too dangerous—if +you are convinced beforehand of its failure—you +are at perfect liberty to take the train in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +any direction, and work your way home to the +Union camp as best you can. Nor shall I have +one word of reproach, either in my mind or on +my lips, for a man whose prudence, or whose +want of confidence in his leader, induces him to +draw back.”</p> +<p>Andrews was an adroit student of men. No +speech could have better served his purpose of +inducing his followers to remain with him. It was +as if he declared: “You may all desert me, but +<i>I</i> will remain true to my flag.”</p> +<p>“You can count on me to the very last,” said +Watson stoutly. He was always ready to face +danger, but he liked to have the privilege of +grumbling at times. In his heart, too, was a conviction +that his leader was about to play a very +desperate game. The chances were all against +them.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Watson,” answered Andrews, +gratefully. “I never could doubt your bravery. +And are the rest of you willing?”</p> +<p>There were hearty murmurs of assent from +Jenks, George and Macgreggor. Jenks and the +boy were very sanguine; Macgreggor was +rather skeptical as to future success, but he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +sternly resolved to banish all doubts from his +mind.</p> +<p>“Well, George,” said Andrews, as he was +about to leave the room, “if you get through +this railroad ride in safety you will have something +interesting to remember all your life.” In +another moment he had gone. The time for +action had almost arrived.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_ON_THE_RAIL' id='V_ON_THE_RAIL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>ON THE RAIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>At an early hour the next morning, just before +daylight, the conspirators were standing on +the platform of the Marietta station, awaiting +the arrival of their train—the train which they +hoped soon to call theirs in reality. They were +all in civilian dress; even Walter Jenks had contrived +to discard his uniform of a Confederate +officer, regarding it as too conspicuous, and he +was habited in an ill-fitting suit which made +him look like an honest, industrious mechanic.</p> +<p>Andrews was pacing up and down with an +anxious, resolute face. He realized that the +success of the manœuvre which they were about +to execute rested upon his own shoulders, but he +had no idea of flinching. “Before night has +come,” he was thinking confidently, “we shall +be within the lines of General Mitchell, and soon +all America will be ringing with the story of our +dash.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p> +<p>George, no less sanguine, was standing near +Watson and Macgreggor, and occasionally slipping +a lump of sugar into the overcoat pocket +which served as a sort of kennel for the tiny +Waggie. There was nothing about the party to +attract undue attention. They pretended, for +the most part, to be strangers one to another, +and, to aid in the deception, they had bought +railroad tickets for different places—for Kingston, +Adairsville, Calhoun and other stations +to the northward, between Marietta and +Chattanooga.</p> +<p>Soon the train was sweeping up to the platform. +It was a long one, with locomotive, +tender, three baggage cars and a number of +passenger cars. The adventurers clambered on +it through various doors, but at last reached the +passenger car nearest to the engine. Here they +seated themselves quite as if 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 bend around the +foot of Kenesaw Mountain. “Only eight miles,” +thought George, “and then——”</p> +<p>The conductor of the train, a young man with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +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 other passengers.</p> +<p>A thrill of feverish excitement stirred the lad. +“What did he mean by too young?” he asked +himself. “Can he possibly have gotten wind of +our expedition?” But the conductor did not +return, and it was not until long afterwards that +George was able to understand what was meant +by the expression, “Too young.” The man had +been warned by the Confederate authorities that +a number of young Southerners who had been +conscripted into the army were trying to escape +from service, and might use the cars for that +purpose. He was ordered, therefore, to arrest +any such runaways that he might find. When +he looked at George it is probable that he +thought: “This boy is too young to be a conscript,” +and he evidently gave unconscious voice +to what was passing through his mind. Fortunately +enough, he saw nothing suspicious in any +of the Northerners.</p> +<p>The train ran rather slowly, so that it was +bright daylight before it reached Big Shanty. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +“Big Shanty; twenty minutes for breakfast!” +shouted the conductor and the brakemen. +George’s heart beat so fast that he almost feared +some one would hear it, and ask him what was +the matter. The hoarse cries of the employees +as they announced the name of the station made +him realize that now, after all these hours of preparation +and preliminary danger, the first act of +his drama of war had begun. Every one of his +companions experienced the same feeling, but, +like him, none had any desire to draw back.</p> +<p>No sooner had the cars come to a standstill +than nearly all the passengers, excepting the +Northerners, quickly left their seats, to repair to +the long, low shanty or eating-room from which +the station took its unpoetic name. Then the +train hands, including the engineer and fireman, +followed the example of the hungry passengers, +and hurried off to breakfast. The engine was +deserted. This was even better than the adventurers +could have hoped, for they had feared +that it might be necessary to overpower the +engineer before they could get away on their +race.</p> +<p>The twenty-one men and the one boy left in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +forward passenger car looked anxiously, guardedly, +at one another. More than one felt in his +clothes to make sure that he had his revolver. +Andrews left the car for half a minute, dropped to +the ground, and glanced rapidly up and down +the track. There was no obstruction visible. +Within a stone’s throw of him, however, sentries +were posted on the outskirts of the Confederate +camp. He scanned the station, which was directly +across the track from the encampment, +and was glad to see, exactly as he had expected, +that it had no telegraph office from which a dispatch +concerning the coming escapade might be +sent. Having thus satisfied himself that the +coast was clear, and the time propitious, he reentered +the car.</p> +<p>“All right, boys,” he said, very calmly (as +calmly, indeed, as if he were merely inviting the +men to breakfast), “let us go now!”</p> +<p>The men arose, quietly, as if nothing startling +were about to happen, left the car, and walked +hurriedly to the head of the train. “Each man +to his post,” ordered Andrews. “Ready!”</p> +<p>In less time than it takes to write this account +the seizure of the train was accomplished, in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +plain view of the puzzled sentries. The two +men who were to act as engineer and assistant +engineer clambered into the empty cab of the +locomotive, as did also Andrews and Jenks. +The latter was to be the fireman. One of the +men uncoupled the passenger cars, so that the +stolen train would consist only of the engine, +tender, and the three baggage cars. Into one of +these baggage cars the majority of the party +climbed, shutting the doors at either end after +them, while the two men who were to serve as +brakemen stationed themselves upon the roof. +Watson and Macgreggor were in this car, while +George, with Waggie in his pocket, was standing +in the tender, his handsome face aglow with +excitement, and his eyes sparkling like stars.</p> +<p>“All ready! Go!” cried Andrews. The +engineer opened the valve of the locomotive; +the wheels began to revolve; in another second +the train was moving off towards Chattanooga. +The next instant Big Shanty was in an uproar. +As he peered over the ledge of the tender, and +looked back, George saw the sentries running +here and there, as the passengers in the breakfast-room +came swarming out on the platform. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +There were shouts from many voices; he even +heard the report of several rifles.</p> +<p>But shouts or shots from rifles could not avail +now. The engine was dancing along the track +on the road to Chattanooga; Big Shanty was +soon many yards behind. George took Waggie +out of his pocket, and held him up in 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 dog barked +gleefully; and jumped about on the platform of +the tender, glad enough to have a little freedom +again. Then Waggie was replaced in his master’s +pocket.</p> +<p>Andrews, who was sitting on the right-hand +seat of the cab, looked the picture of delight.</p> +<p>“How was that for a starter?” he cried. +“It’s a good joke on Watson: he was so sure the +sentries would stop us, and the soldiers didn’t +realize what we were doing until it was too late—for +them! Hurrah!”</p> +<p>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 +and full of curves; the country was mountainous, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +and the track itself was in wretched condition. +Yet it was a magnificent sight as “The +General,” which was the name of the engine, +careered along through the picturesque country +like some faithful horse which tries, with all its +superb powers of muscle, to take its master farther +and farther away from a dangerous enemy.</p> +<p>But suddenly the engine began to slacken its +speed, and at last came to a complete standstill. +Andrews, who had made his way into the tender, +with considerable difficulty, in order to speak to +George, turned a trifle pale.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Brown?” he shouted to +the engineer.</p> +<p>“The fire’s nearly out, and there’s no steam,” +was the rejoinder. At the same moment the +men in the baggage car opened the door nearest +the tender, and demanded to know what had +happened.</p> +<p>Andrews called back to them that there would +only be a short delay.</p> +<p>“It’s only the fire that’s out,” he added; “and +I’m thankful it is nothing worse. When I saw +the train slowing up I was afraid some of the +machinery had broken.” No one understood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +better than he how a broken engine would have +stranded all his men in the enemy’s country, only +a short distance away, comparatively, from Big +Shanty and the Confederate camp.</p> +<p>George worked with a will in assisting the men +in the cab to convey wood from the tender +into the engine furnace. In three minutes “The +General” had resumed its way.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” thought George, as the train +twisted around a curve and then sped across a +narrow embankment, “if any attempt will be +made to follow us.” But the very idea of such +pursuit seemed absurd.</p> +<p>Andrews turned to Jenks with a smiling countenance. +“The most difficult part of our journey +is already over,” he said triumphantly. “There’s +only one unscheduled train to meet, in addition +to the two regulars. After I meet it, probably at +Kingston, twenty-five miles or more farther on, +we can put the old ‘General’ to full speed, and +begin our work! We have got the upper hand +at last.”</p> +<p>“Don’t forget your telegraph wire is to be +cut,” said Jenks, as he jammed his shabby cap over +his head, to prevent it from sailing off into space. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></p> +<p>“Wait a couple of minutes,” answered the +leader. “We’ll cut it.” He knew that although +there was no telegraph station at Big Shanty, +yet the enemy might tap the wire, if it were not +cut, and thus send word along the line that a +train manned by Northern spies was to be watched +for and peremptorily stopped. The simplest obstruction +on the track would be sufficient to +bring this journey to an untimely end.</p> +<p>“Brown, we’ll stop here,” commanded the +leader, a minute or two later, as the 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?”</p> +<p>“Only a little wire-cutting to be done,” shouted +Andrews. Then coming to George, he said: +“Look here, my boy, how are you on climbing?”</p> +<p>“Never had a tree beat me yet,” said the lad.</p> +<p>“Then try your skill at that pole yonder, and +see if you can get to the top of it.”</p> +<p>Without waiting to make answer George +handed Waggie to Jenks, jumped from the +tender to the ashy road-bed, and started towards +the nearest telegraph pole, only a few feet away +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +from the engine. It was a far more difficult task +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 to succeed, and +none the less so because the men in the baggage +car were looking on as intently as if they were +at the circus. Upon making the third attempt he +conquered, and reached the top of the pole amid +the cheering of the spectators.</p> +<p>“Now hold on there for a minute, George,” +called Andrews. He produced from one of his +pockets a ball of very thick twine, or cord, to one +end of which 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 flew over the telegraph wire, and then +to the ground, so that the cord, the other 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-sized axe.</p> +<p>“Do you see what I want?” he asked the boy, +who was resting himself on the cross-bar supporting +the wire. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p> +<p>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, with his feet dangling in the air. Slowly +he swung himself from the cross-bar to the +wire, and began to finger his way towards the +cord. But this was an experience new to the +expert tree-climber; ere he had proceeded more +than three feet his hands slipped and he fell to the +ground. The distance was thirty-five feet or +more, and the lookers-on cried out in alarm. +The boy would surely break his legs—perhaps +his neck!</p> +<p>But while Master George might not be an +adept in handling a wire he had learned a few +things about falling from trees. As he came +tumbling down he gracefully turned a somersault +and landed, quite unhurt, upon his feet.</p> +<p>“I’ll do it yet,” he maintained pluckily, running +back to the telegraph pole.</p> +<p>“Wait, George,” shouted Andrews. He +leaped from the cab, and taking a new piece of +the cord, tied it around the lad’s waist. “If I +had the sense I was born with I might have +done that first,” he muttered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></p> +<p>George began his second ascent of the pole, +and this time reached the top without hindrance +or mishap. Andrews now fastened the axe to +the cord, of which George had one end; in a few +seconds the axe had been drawn up by the boy. +Then, with his left hand holding on to the cross-bar, +and his legs firmly wound around the pole, +he took the axe in his right hand and hit the +wire. Three times did he thus strike; at the +third blow the wire snapped asunder, and the +longer of the two pieces fell to the ground. He +let 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, +and threw the piece thus secured into the +tender.</p> +<p>“They can’t connect that line in a hurry,” he +said, as he turned to George with the remark: +“Well, my son, you’re earning your salt!” +George, blushing like a peony, felt a thrill of pride.</p> +<p>“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 +any chance, the enemy will have some trouble in +getting on any further.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p> +<p>The occupants of the car, headed by Watson, +sprang to the ground. Andrews handed him a +smooth iron bar, about four feet in length. “We +have no track-raising instruments,” explained the +leader, “but I guess this will answer.” Watson +managed to loosen some of the spikes on the +track, in the rear of the train, by means of this +bar; later several of his companions succeeded +in placing a log under the rail and prying it up +so that at last the piece of iron had been entirely +separated from the track.</p> +<p>The perspiration was dripping from Watson’s +brow. “Great guns!” he growled, “we are +acting as if we had a whole eternity of time before +us.”</p> +<p>“Don’t worry about that,” said Andrews, reassuringly, +as he leaped into the 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 were once more +on their way.</p> +<p>After the train had run a distance of five +miles, Andrews signaled to the engineer, and it +was brought slowly to a stop. The chief jumped +from the engine, walked along the track to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +end car, and gazed intently to the southward.</p> +<p>“No sign of pursuit thus far,” he said to himself. +Then, turning back and speaking to the +men in the baggage car who had once more +opened the door, he cried: “There’s time, boys, +for another wrestle with the telegraph—only +this time we will try a new plan.” This time, +indeed, a pole was chopped down, and placed +(after the wire had been cut) upon the track +directly behind the last baggage car.</p> +<p>“There,” said Andrews, “that will have to be +lifted off before our friends the enemy can steam +by—even if they have an engine good for seventy +miles an hour.”</p> +<p>Walter Jenks came walking back to the cab. +He looked pale and tired.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Andrews.</p> +<p>“I strained my back a bit in helping the fellows +to put that pole on the track,” was the answer.</p> +<p>“Go back into the car and take a rest,” urged +the leader. “George can take your place as fireman. +Eh, George?”</p> +<p>The boy, coming up at that moment, and hearing +the suggestion, smiled almost as broadly as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +the famous Cheshire cat. He longed to know +that he was of some real use in the expedition. +So Jenks retired to the baggage car, carrying +with him, for a temporary companion, the struggling +Waggie, who might be very much in +George’s way under the new arrangement of +duties.</p> +<p>Off once more rattled “The General,” and +George, in his capacity of fireman, felt about +three inches taller than he had five minutes before. +The spirits of Andrews seemed to be +rising higher and higher. Thus far everything +had gone so successfully that he began to believe +that the happy ending of this piece of daring was +already assured.</p> +<p>“Now, my boys, for a bit of diplomacy,” he +said, at last, as the occupants of the cab saw that +they were approaching a small station flanked +by half a dozen houses. “Stop ‘The General’ +here, Brown, for I think there’s a tank at the +place.”</p> +<p>As the train reached the platform and slowly +stopped, the station-master, a rustic-looking individual +with a white beard three feet long, +shambled up to the cab. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p> +<p>“Ain’t this Fuller’s train?” he drawled, gazing +curiously at the four Northerners, as he +gave a hitch to his shabby trousers. He could +not understand the presence of the strangers in +the engine, nor the disappearance of the passenger +cars.</p> +<p>Andrews leaned out of the cab window. He +knew that Fuller was the conductor 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’ll be along later; we have +the right of way all along the line. I’m running +a special right through to General Beauregard at +Corinth. He is badly in need of powder.”</p> +<p>“Be the powder there?” asked the station-master, +pointing to the three baggage cars.</p> +<p>The men hiding in one of them had received +their instructions; they were as silent as the +grave, and their doors were closed. The brakemen +sat mute on top of the cars.</p> +<p>“Yes, there’s enough powder in there to blow +up the whole State of Georgia,” returned Andrews.</p> +<p>“Wall, I’d give my shirt and my shoes to +Beauregard if he wanted ’em,” said the man of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +the long beard. “He’s the best General we have +in the Confederate service;—yes, better even +than Robert Lee.”</p> +<p>“Well, then help Beauregard by helping me. +I want more water—I see you have a tank here—and +more wood.”</p> +<p>“You can have all you can hold,” cried the +station-master, enthusiastically. He was only +too glad to be of use.</p> +<p>Thus it happened that ten minutes later “The +General” was speeding away from the station +with a fresh supply of water and a huge pile of +wood in the tender.</p> +<p>“That yarn worked admirably, didn’t it?” +asked Andrews. The engineer and his assistant +laughed. George shut the heavy door of the +furnace, into which he had been throwing wood, +and stood up, very red in the face, albeit smiling.</p> +<p>“But even if the story was true,” he suggested, +“you couldn’t get through to Corinth.”</p> +<p>“Exactly,” laughed the leader, “but our goat-bearded +friend at the station didn’t think of that +fact. Corinth is away off in the state of Mississippi, +near its northern border, nearly three hundred +miles away from here; besides, if I were a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +Southerner, I couldn’t possibly reach there without +running afoul of General Mitchell and his +forces, either around Huntsville, or Chattanooga. +However, I knew more about Mitchell’s movements +than the station man did—and that’s +where I had the advantage.”</p> +<p>“We may not have such plain sailing at +Kingston,” said the engineer, as “The General” +just grazed an inquisitive cow which showed +signs of loitering on the track.</p> +<p>“We’ll have more people to deal with there,” +admitted Andrews, “and we must be all the +more on our guard.”</p> +<p>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-train +rolled into the station at the town of +Kingston.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>No sooner was “The General” motionless +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +than a train-dispatcher emerged from a gathering +of idlers on the platform and walked up to +the locomotive. 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 partly real and partly assumed, the dispatcher +drew back in surprise. He recognized “The +General,” but there were strange men in the cab.</p> +<p>“I thought this was Fuller’s train,” he said. +“It’s Fuller’s engine.”</p> +<p>“Yes, it is Fuller’s engine, but he’s to follow +me with his regular train and another engine. +This is a special carrying ammunition for General +Beauregard, and I must have the right of +way clear along the line!”</p> +<p>The dispatcher scanned the train. He saw +nothing to excite his suspicions. The baggage +cars were closed, and might easily be filled with +powder and shot; the men in the engine, and the +two brakemen on the top of one car had a perfectly +natural appearance.</p> +<p>“Well, you can’t move on yet,” he announced. +“Here’s a telegram saying a local freight from +the north will soon be here, and you must wait +till she comes up.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span></p> +<p>Andrews bit his lip in sheer vexation. He +had reasoned that this irregular freight train +would already be at Kingston on his arrival, and +he hated the idea of a delay. The loiterers on +the platform were listening eagerly to 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-track +railroad until the exasperating freight had +reached the station.</p> +<p>“All right,” he answered, endeavoring to look +unconcerned, “shunt us off.”</p> +<p>Within three minutes the train had been +shifted from the main track to a side track, and +a curious crowd had gathered around “The +General.”</p> +<p>It was a critical situation. The idlers began +to ply the occupants of the cab with a hundred +questions which must be answered in some shape +unless suspicion was to be aroused—and suspicion, +under such circumstances, would mean +the holding back of the train, and the failure of +the expedition.</p> +<p>“Where did you come from?” “How much +powder have you got on board?” “Why did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +you take Fuller’s engine?” “Why is Beauregard +in such a hurry for ammunition?” were +among the queries hurled at the defenceless +heads of the four conspirators.</p> +<p>George, as he gazed out upon the Kingstonians, +began to feel rather nervous. He realized that +one contradictory answer, one slip of the tongue, +might spoil everything. And in this case to +spoil was a verb meaning imprisonment and ultimate +death.</p> +<p>A dapper young man, with small, piercing +eyes and a head that suggested a large bump of +self-conceit, called out: “You chaps can’t reach +Beauregard. You’ll run right into the Yankee +forces.”</p> +<p>“I’ve got my orders and I’m going to try it,” +doggedly answered Andrews.</p> +<p>“And run your ammunition right into the +hands of the Yankees?” sneered the dapper +young man. “I don’t see the sense in +that.”</p> +<p>An angry flush came into Andrews’ cheeks. +“When you have been in the Confederate army +a little while, young man, as I have,” he said, +“you’ll learn to obey orders and ask no questions. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +Why don’t you go serve your country, as +other young men are doing, instead of idling +around at a safe distance from the bullets?”</p> +<p>At this sally a shout of laughter went up from +the crowd. It was evident that the dapper +young man was not popular. He made no answer, +but went away. “Will that freight never +turn up?” thought Andrews.</p> +<p>Suddenly there came a barking from the baggage +car nearest the tender, wherein were confined +the majority of the party. George’s heart +beat the faster as he listened; he knew that the +querulous little cries were uttered by Waggie.</p> +<p>An old man, with snow-white hair and beard, +cried out: “Is that dog in the car part of your +ammunition?” His companions laughed at the +witticism. For once Andrews was nonplused. +George came bravely to the rescue.</p> +<p>“It’s a dog in a box,” he said, “and it’s a +present to General Beauregard.”</p> +<p>“Well, I hopes the purp won’t be blown up,” +remarked the old man. There was another +titter, but the story was believed.</p> +<p>“Things are getting a little too warm here,” +Andrews whispered to George. As the words +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +left his lips he heard the screeching of a locomotive. +“It’s the freight!” he cried.</p> +<p>It was, indeed, the longed-for freight train; +puffing laboriously, it came up to the station +and was quickly switched off to a siding.</p> +<p>“Now we can get rid of these inquisitive hayseeds,” +said Andrews.</p> +<p>“Look,” cried George; “I see a red flag!” +He pointed to the rear platform of the end +freight car, from which was suspended a piece of +red bunting. Andrews stamped his foot and +indulged in some forcible language. He knew +that the flag indicated the presence of another +train back of the freight.</p> +<p>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 cross the tracks to enter the +station.</p> +<p>“What does <i>what</i> mean?” asked the conductor, +in a tone of mild surprise.</p> +<p>“Why is the road blocked up behind you?” +asked the leader. Had he been the President of +the Southern Confederacy he could not have +spoken more imperiously. “I have a special +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +train with orders to take a load of powder to +General Beauregard without delay! And here +I find my way stopped by miserable freight +trains which are not a quarter as important as +my three cars of ammunition.”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, sir,” explained the conductor, +“but it ain’t my fault. Fact is, Mitchell, the +Yankee General, has captured Huntsville, and +we’re moving everything we can out of Chattanooga, +because it’s said he is marching for there. +We have had to split this freight up into two +sections—and t’other section is a few miles +behind. Don’t worry. It’ll be here soon. But, +look here, sir! You’ll never be able to reach +Beauregard. General Mitchell will get you long +before you are near Corinth.”</p> +<p>“Pooh!” replied Andrews. “Mitchell may +have taken Huntsville, but he can’t stay there. +Beauregard has, no doubt, sent him flying by +this time. And, anyway, I’m bound to obey +orders from Richmond, come what may.”</p> +<p>“I wish you luck, sir,” said the freight conductor, +who was impressed by the authoritative +bearing of Andrews, and believed the spy to be +some Confederate officer of high rank. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span></p> +<p>The leader returned to the cab. It was still +surrounded by the curious idlers.</p> +<p>“This is what I call pretty bad railroad management,” +he grumbled, loud enough to be heard +by the Kingstonians. “This line should be kept +clear when it’s necessary to get army supplies +quickly from place to place. What are fifty +freight trains compared to powder for the +troops?”</p> +<p>The minutes passed slowly; it seemed as if that +second freight train would never come. At last +a dull, rumbling sound on the track gave warning +of the approach of the second section. In a +few moments the heavily-laden cars, drawn by a +large engine, had glided by “The General,” down +the main track. The men in the cab gave unconscious +sighs of relief. Now they could move +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 +was another red flag.</p> +<p>“Look!” he whispered. Andrews saw the +flag, and turned white.</p> +<p>“How many more trains are we to wait +for?” he said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></p> +<p>After regaining his composure he left the +engine, to seek the conductor of the new train. +He was back again in five minutes.</p> +<p>“Well?” asked George.</p> +<p>“I find from the conductor that there’s still +another section behind him,” explained Andrews. +“The Confederate commander at Chattanooga +fears the approach of General Mitchell and has +ordered all the rolling stock of the railroad to +be sent south to Atlanta. The new train should +be here in ten minutes.”</p> +<p>In the meantime the people around the station +had all heard of the danger which threatened +Chattanooga from the Union army. The train-dispatcher +came running over to the engine, and +doffed his cap to Andrews.</p> +<p>“It ain’t none of my business,” he said, with +supreme indifference to any rules of grammar, +“but they say Mitchell is almost at Chattanooga—and +you’ll never get through to +Corinth.”</p> +<p>Andrews assumed an air of contemptuous +superiority.</p> +<p>“I happen to know more of General Mitchell’s +movements than you do,” he said, “And, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +what’s more, no Confederate officer takes orders +from a railroad employee.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean any offense,” answered the +train-dispatcher.</p> +<p>“Then go back and see that the switches are +ready for me to move on the instant the next +freight gets here,” ordered the leader. The +young man walked away, with a nod of assent.</p> +<p>“He talks proud enough,” he thought; “he +must be a relation of Jefferson Davis, from his +airs.”</p> +<p>After the dispatcher had gone, Andrews whispered +to George: “We ought to let the boys in +the car know the cause of our detention—and +warn them that in case of anything going wrong +in our plans they must be prepared to fight for +their lives. Could you manage to get word to +them without attracting suspicion?”</p> +<p>The boy made no verbal answer. But as he +left the cab and vaulted to the ground, his looks +showed that he understood what was wanted, +and proposed to execute the commission. After +sauntering among the men who stood near the +engine, he crossed the track of the siding, +directly in front of “The General’s” headlight, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +and soon leaned, in a careless attitude, against +the car in which so many of his companions were +waiting. He was now on the opposite side of +the track from the Kingstonians, but directly +alongside the main track, and in full view from +the station.</p> +<p>George began, in a very low tone, to whistle a +few bars from “The Blue Bells of Scotland.” It +was a tune he had often indulged in during his +travels from the Union camp. As he finished +there came a bark of recognition from Waggie, +and a slight stir in the car.</p> +<p>“Are you there, Watson?” asked the boy, under +his breath. “Can you hear me? If you +can, scratch on the wall.”</p> +<p>There was a moment’s pause, and the faint +sound of footsteps was heard within the car. +Then came an answering scratch.</p> +<p>George went on, in the same tone, as he leaned +against the car, and apparently gazed into space: +“Andrews wants you—to know—that we’re +waiting—till some freight trains—get in—from +Chattanooga. But if anything—should happen—before +we—can get away—be ready to fight. +Keep Waggie from barking—if you can.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>Another scratching showed that Watson had +heard and understood. But Waggie began to +bark again. George was filled with vexation. +“Why did I let Waggie go in the car?” he +asked himself.</p> +<p>Just then a welcome whistle proclaimed that +the third freight train was approaching. It was +time; the delay at Kingston must have occupied +nearly an hour—it seemed like a whole day—and +the men about the railroad station were becoming +skeptical. They could not understand +why the mysterious commander of the powder-train +should persist in wanting to go on after +hearing that Mitchell was so near.</p> +<p>When George returned to the engine the new +freight went by on the main track directly in the +wake of the second freight, which had been sent +half a mile down the line, to the southward. +The main track was now clear for Andrews. +But the intrepid leader seemed to be facing fresh +trouble. He was standing on the step of the +cab, addressing the old man who had charge of +the switches.</p> +<p>“Switch me off to the main track at once,” +thundered Andrews. “Don’t you see, fool, that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +the last local freight is in, and I have a clear +road!”</p> +<p>There was a provokingly obstinate twist about +the switch-tender’s mouth.</p> +<p>“Switch yourself off,” he snarled. “I shan’t +take the responsibility for doing it. You may +be what you say you are, but I haven’t anything +to prove it. You’re a fool, anyway, to run right +into the arms of the Yankee general.”</p> +<p>His fellow-townsmen indulged in a murmur of +approval. The men in the cab saw that another +minute would decide their fate, adversely or +otherwise.</p> +<p>“I order you to switch me off—in the name of +the Confederate Government!” shouted the +leader.</p> +<p>More citizens were running over from the station +to find out the cause of the disturbance.</p> +<p>“I don’t know you, and I won’t take any orders +from you!” said the switch-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.</p> +<p>In a twinkling Andrews had followed him, and +was already in the ticket room. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p> +<p>“You’ll be sorry for this,” he cried; “for I’ll +report your rascally conduct to General Beauregard!” +He seized the keys as he spoke, and +shook them in the old man’s face.</p> +<p>The latter looked puzzled. He had begun to +think that this business of sending powder to +Beauregard was a trick of some kind, yet the +confident bearing of the leader impressed him at +this crisis. Perhaps he had made a mistake in +refusing to obey the orders; but ere he could +decide the knotty problem Andrews took the +keys, hurried from the station, and unlocked the +switch. Then he jumped into the cab, as he +shouted to the men near the engine: “Tell your +switch-tender that he will hear from General +Beauregard for this!” He gave a signal, and +the engineer grasped the lever and opened the +steam valve.</p> +<p>“The General” slowly left the siding and +turned into the main track. As the train passed +the station, heading towards the north, the +switch-tender was standing on the platform, +with a dazed expression in his eyes. Andrews +tossed the keys to him, as he cried: “Forgive +me for being in such a hurry, but the Confederacy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +can’t wait for you!” Soon Kingston +was left behind.</p> +<p>“Keep ‘The General’ going at forty miles an +hour,” said the leader. “We have only the two +trains to meet now—a passenger and a freight—which +won’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.”</p> +<p>“I was pretty well scared when that rascal of +a Waggie barked,” observed George. The train +was now gliding swiftly on past hills and woods +and quiet pasture-lands. After the long delay +the sensation of rapid motion was delightful.</p> +<p>“By Jove!” cried Andrews, with a tinge of +humor. “You must bring that rogue back with +you into the engine. When he barks in a place +where there’s supposed to be nothing but powder +the thing doesn’t seem quite logical. It throws +discredit on an otherwise plausible story. Let +us stop a couple of miles from here, near Adairsville, +do some wire-cutting, release Waggie, and +see how the fellows are getting along in the +baggage car.”</p> +<p>When the stop was made the men in the car +quickly opened the door and came tumbling to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +the ground. They were glad to stretch their +legs and get a breath of fresh air. Waggie +bounded and frisked with delight when he +espied George.</p> +<p>“I’ve had a time with that dog,” said Jenks. +“I had a flask of water with me, and he insisted +on my pouring every bit of it out on the palm of +my hand, and letting him lap it.”</p> +<p>The other occupants of the car were crowding +around Andrews, as they discussed with him the +fortunate escape from Kingston. Watson, who +seemed to be fired with a sudden enthusiasm, +addressed the party.</p> +<p>“Boys,” he said, “when I heard that switch-tender +refuse to put us on the main track I +thought our hour had come. But the coolness +and the presence of mind of our friend Andrews +have saved the day. Let us give him three +cheers! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”</p> +<p>The cheers were given with a will.</p> +<p>“Thank you, comrades,” said Andrews, modestly. +“But don’t waste any time on me; I +only did what any other man would have done +in my place. Let’s get to work again—time’s +precious.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p> +<p>At a hint from him George clambered up a +telegraph pole, taking with him a piece 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 the rear +of the train. The rails were afterwards deposited +in the baggage car occupied by the men, +as were also some wooden cross-ties which were +found near the road-bed.</p> +<p>“All this may be a waste of time,” said +Andrews. “We shall probably be in Chattanooga +before any one has a chance to chase +us.”</p> +<p>“Yet I have a presentiment that we shall be +chased,” cried Macgreggor. “I believe there +will be a hot pursuit.”</p> +<p>His hearers, including Andrews, laughed, +almost scornfully.</p> +<p>“Just wait and see,” returned Macgreggor. +“A Southerner is as brave, and has as much +brains as a Northerner.”</p> +<p>We shall see who was right in the matter.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_AN_UNPLEASANT_SURPRISE' id='VI_AN_UNPLEASANT_SURPRISE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE</h3> +</div> + +<p>On sped the fugitive train once more, and in a +few minutes it had stopped, with much bumping +and rattle of brakes at the station called Adairsville. +Hardly had the wheels of the faithful old +“General” ceased revolving before a whistle was +heard from the northward.</p> +<p>Andrews peered through the cab up the +track. “It’s the regular freight,” he said, and +calling to the station hands who were gaping at +“Fuller’s train,” as they supposed it must be, +he told them the customary story about the +powder designed for General Beauregard. They +believed the leader, who spoke with his old air +of authority, and they quickly shunted his +“special” on to the side track. No sooner had +this been accomplished than the freight made +its appearance.</p> +<p>As the engine of the latter passed slowly by +“The General” Andrews shouted to the men in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +the cab: “Where’s the passenger train that is on +the schedule?”</p> +<p>“It ought to be right behind us,” came the answer.</p> +<p>“That’s good,” whispered Andrews. “Once let +us pass that passenger, and we’ll have a clear +road to the very end of the line.”</p> +<p>In the meantime the freight was moved past +the station and switched on to the siding, directly +behind the “special,” there to wait the arrival of +the passenger train.</p> +<p>George began to grow restless, as the minutes +passed and no train appeared. At last, with the +permission of Andrews, he jumped from the cab, +and walked over to the platform, Waggie following +close at his heels. He looked anxiously up +the track, but he could see nothing, hear nothing.</p> +<p>Two young men, one of them a civilian and +the other evidently a soldier who was home on +furlough (to judge by his gray uniform and +right arm in a sling), were promenading up and +down, and smoking clay pipes.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand it,” the soldier was saying. +“They talk about sending powder through to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +General Beauregard, but it’s an utter impossibility +to do it.”</p> +<p>“You’re right,” said his friend. “The thing +looks fishy. If these fellows are really what +they——”</p> +<p>“Hush,” whispered the soldier. He pointed +to George as he spoke. “Well, you’re beginning +railroading pretty young,” he added aloud, scrutinizing +the boy as if he would like to read his +inmost thoughts.</p> +<p>“It’s never too young to begin,” answered the +boy, carelessly.</p> +<p>“What is this powder train of yours, anyway?” +asked the soldier, in a wheedling +voice which was meant to be plausible and +friendly.</p> +<p>George had heard enough of the conversation +between the two young Southerners to know that +they were more than curious about the supposed +powder train. And now, he thought, they would +try to entrap him into some damaging admission. +He must be on his guard. He put on as stupid a +look as he could assume (which was no easy task +in the case of a boy with such intelligent features), +as he replied stolidly: “Dunno. I’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +nothing to do with it. I’m only fireman on the +engine.”</p> +<p>“But you know where you’re going?” demanded +the soldier, with a gesture of impatience.</p> +<p>“Dunno.”</p> +<p>“Who is the tall chap with the beard who has +charge of the train?”</p> +<p>“Dunno.”</p> +<p>“How much powder have you got on board?”</p> +<p>“Dunno.”</p> +<p>“I don’t suppose you even know your own +name, you little idiot!” cried the soldier. “The +boy hasn’t got good sense,” he said, turning to +his friend.</p> +<p>“You were never more mistaken in your life,” +answered his friend. “He’s only playing a +game. I know something about faces—and this +boy here has lots of sense.”</p> +<p>George called Waggie, put the animal in his +pocket, and walked to the door of the little station +without taking any notice of this compliment +to his sagacity. Under the circumstances +he should have preferred the deepest insult. He +felt that a long detention at Adairsville would be +dangerous, perhaps fatal. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p> +<p>Opening the door, the boy entered the station. +It comprised a cheerless waiting-room, with a +stove, bench and water-cooler for furniture, and +a little ticket office at one end. The ticket office +was occupied by the station-agent, who was near +the keyboard of the telegraph wire; otherwise +the interior of the building was empty.</p> +<p>“Heard anything from the passenger yet?” +asked George, as he walked unconcernedly into +the ticket office.</p> +<p>“Just wait a second,” said the man, his right +hand playing on the board; “I’m telegraphing +up the line to Calhoun to find out where she is. +The wires aren’t working to the south, somehow, +but they’re all right to the north.”</p> +<p>Click, click, went the instrument. George returned +leisurely to the doorway of the waiting-room. +He was just in time to hear the young +soldier say to his friend: “If these fellows try to +get away from here, just let ’em go. I’ll send a +telegram up the road giving warning that they +are coming, and should be stopped as a suspicious +party. If they don’t find themselves in hot +water by the time they get to Dalton I’m a +bigger fool than I think I am.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span></p> +<p>George stood stock still. Here was danger +indeed! He knew that to send a telegram up the +road would be but the work of a minute; it could +go over the wires to the north before the +“special” had pulled away from Adairsville.</p> +<p>At this moment the station-agent came out of +his office. “The passenger is behind time,” he +said, and he ran quickly across the tracks to +speak to Andrews, who was looking anxiously +out from the cab of “The General.”</p> +<p>“It’s now or never,” thought George. He +turned back into the deserted waiting-room, +entered the ticket-office, and pulled from the +belt under his inner coat a large revolver—the +weapon which he carried in case self-defense became +necessary. Taking the barrel of the revolver, +he tried to pry up the telegraphic keyboard +from the table to which it was attached. +But he found this impossible to accomplish; he +could secure no leverage on the instrument. He +was not to be thwarted, however; so changing +his tactics, he took the barrel in his hand and +began to rain heavy blows upon the keys, with +the butt end. In less time than it takes to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +describe the episode, the instrument had been +rendered totally useless.</p> +<p>“There,” he said to himself, with the air of a +conqueror, “it will take time to repair that +damage, or to send a telegram.” He was about +to leave the office when he discovered a portable +battery under the table. It was an instrument +that could be attached to a wire, in case of +emergency. George hastily picked it up, and +hurried into the waiting-room. It would never +do to leave this battery behind in the office; but +how could he take it away without being caught +in the act? His eyes wandered here and there, +until they rested upon the stove. There was no +fire in it. An inspiration came to him. He +opened the iron door, which was large, and threw +the battery into the stove. Then he closed the +door, and sauntered carelessly out to the platform. +The soldier and his friend were now +standing at some distance from the station, on a +sidewalk in front of a grocery store. They were +engaged in earnest conversation. Over on the +side-track, where “The General” stood, the +station-agent was talking to Andrews. George +joined his leader, and sprang into the cab. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p> +<p>“From what I hear,” said Andrews, “the +passenger train is so much behind time that if I +make fast time I can get to Calhoun before it +arrives there, and wait on a siding for it to pass us.”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you move on,” urged +George, who happened to know how desirable it +was to get away, but dared not drop any hint to +his leader in the presence of the station-agent.</p> +<p>“You’re taking a risk,” said the station-agent. +“You may strike the train before you reach Calhoun.” +He was evidently not suspicious, but he +feared an accident.</p> +<p>“If I meet the train before we reach Calhoun,” +cried Andrews, striking his fist against +the window-ledge of the cab, “why then she +must back till she gets a side-track, and then we +will pass her.”</p> +<p>He turned and looked at his engineer and the +assistant.</p> +<p>“Are you ready to go, boys?” he asked. +They quickly nodded assent; they longed to be +off again.</p> +<p>“Then go ahead!” ordered Andrews. “A +government special must not be detained by any +other train on the road!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p> +<p>“The General” was away once more. George +began to explain to Andrews what he had heard +at the station, and how he had disabled the telegraph.</p> +<p>“You’re a brick!” cried the leader, patting +the boy approvingly on the shoulder; “and you +have saved us from another scrape. But ’tis +better to provide against any repairing of the +telegraph—and the sooner we cut a wire and +obstruct the track, the better for us.”</p> +<p>Thus it happened that before the train had +gone more than three miles “The General” was +stopped, more wires were cut, and several cross-ties +were thrown on the track in the rear. Then +the train dashed on, this time at a terrific speed. +Andrews hoped to reach Calhoun, seven miles +away, before the passenger should arrive there. +It was all that George could do to keep his +balance, particularly when he was called upon to +feed the engine fire with wood from the tender. +Once Waggie, who showed a sudden disposition +to see what was going on around him, and tried +to crawl out from his master’s pocket, came very +near being hurled out of the engine. Curves and +up grades seemed all alike to “The General”; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +the noble steed never slackened its pace for an +instant. The engineer was keeping his eyes on +a point way up the line, so that he might slow +up if he saw any sign of the passenger; the +assistant sounded the whistle so incessantly that +George thought his head would split from the +noise. Once, at a road crossing, they whirled by +a farm wagon containing four men. The boy +had a vision of four mouths opened very wide. +In a second wagon and occupants were left far +behind.</p> +<p>In a space of time which seemed incredibly +short Calhoun was reached. Down went the +brakes and “The General” slid into the station +to find directly in front, on the same track, the +long-expected passenger train.</p> +<p>“There she is!” cried Andrews; “and not +before it’s time!”</p> +<p>It was only by the most strenuous efforts +that the engineer could keep “The General” +from colliding with the locomotive of the opposing +train. When he brought his obedient iron-horse +to a standstill there was only the distance +of a foot between the cowcatchers of the two +engines. The engineer of the passenger train +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +leaned from his cab and began to indulge in impolite +language. “What d’ye mean,” he shouted, +“by trying to run me down?” And he added +some expressions which would not have passed +muster in cultivated society.</p> +<p>“Clear the road! Clear the road!” roared +Andrews. “This powder train must go through +to General Beauregard at once! We can’t stay +here a minute!”</p> +<p>These words acted like a charm. The passenger +train was backed to a siding, and “The +General” and its burden were soon running out +of Calhoun.</p> +<p>“No more trains!” said Andrews. His voice +was husky; the perspiration was streaming from +his face. “Now for a little bridge burning. +There’s a bridge a short distance up the road, +across the Oostenaula River, where we can begin +the real business of the day. But before we get +to it let us stop ‘The General’ and see what +condition he is in.”</p> +<p>“He has behaved like a gentleman, so far,” +said the engineer. “He must be in sympathy +with us Northerners.”</p> +<p>“Slow up!” ordered Andrews. “The old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +fellow is beginning to wheeze a little bit; I can +tell that he needs oiling.”</p> +<p>Obedient to the command, the engineer +brought “The General” to a halt. As the men +came running from the baggage car, Andrews +ordered them to take up another rail.</p> +<p>“It’s good exercise, boys,” he laughed, “even +if it may not be actually necessary.”</p> +<p>Then he helped his engineers to inspect +“The General.” The engine was still in excellent +condition, although the wood and water +were running a little low. It received a quick +oiling, while George climbed up a telegraph pole +and severed a wire in the manner heretofore +described. Eight of the party were pulling at a +rail, one end of which was loose and the other +still fastened to the cross-ties by spikes.</p> +<p>Suddenly, away to the southward, came the +whistle of an engine. Had a thunderbolt descended +upon the men, the effect could not have +been more startling. The workers at the rail +tore it away from the track, in their wild excitement, +and, losing their balance, fell headlong +down the side of the embankment on which they +had been standing. They were up again the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +next instant, unhurt, but eager to know the +meaning of the whistle.</p> +<p>Was there an engine in pursuit? Andrews +looked down the track.</p> +<p>“See!” he cried.</p> +<p>There <i>was</i> something to gaze at. Less than a +mile away a large locomotive, which was reversed +so that the tender came first, was running +rapidly up the line, each instant approaching +nearer and nearer to the fugitives. In the +tender stood men who seemed to be armed with +muskets.</p> +<p>“They are after us,” said Andrews. “There’s +no doubt about it.” He was very calm now; he +spoke as if he were discussing the most commonplace +matter in the world.</p> +<p>His companions crowded around him.</p> +<p>“Let us stand and fight them!” cried Watson.</p> +<p>“Yes,” urged Jenks, who had forgotten all +about his sore back; “we can make a stand +here!”</p> +<p>Andrews shook his head. “Better go on, +boys,” he answered. “We have taken out this +rail, and that will delay them. In the meantime +we can go on to the Oostenaula bridge and burn it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p>There was no time for discussion. The men +yielded their usual assent to the orders of their +chief. They quickly scrambled back into the +train, to their respective posts, and Andrews +gave the signal for departure.</p> +<p>“Push the engine for all it’s worth!” he commanded; +“we must make the bridge before the +enemy are on us.” The engineer set “The +General” going at a rattling pace.</p> +<p>“How on earth could we be pursued, after the +way we cut the wires along the line,” muttered +the leader. “Can the enemy have telegraphed +from Big Shanty to Kingston by some circuitous +route? I don’t understand.”</p> +<p>“Are you making full speed?” he asked the +engineer, a second later.</p> +<p>“The old horse is doing his best,” answered +the man, “but the wood is getting precious +low.”</p> +<p>“George, pour some engine oil into the furnace.”</p> +<p>The boy seized the oil can, and obeyed the +order. The speed of “The General” increased; +the engine seemed to spring forward like a horse +to which the spur has been applied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<p>“That’s better,” said Andrews. “Now if we +can only burn that bridge before the enemy are +up to us, there is still a chance for success—and +life!” His voice sank almost to a whisper as he +uttered the last word. With a strange, indescribable +sensation, George suddenly realized +how near they all were to disaster, even to death. +He thought of his father, and then he thought of +Waggie, and wondered what was to become of +the little dog. The boy was cool; he had no +sense of fear; it seemed as if he were figuring in +some curious dream.</p> +<p>Suddenly Andrews left the engine, lurched +into the tender, and began to climb out of it, and +thence to the platform of the first baggage car. +George looked back at him in dread; surely the +leader would be hurled from the flying train and +killed. But he reached the car in safety and +opened the door. He shouted out an order +which George could not hear, so great was the +rattle of the train; then he made his way, with +the ease of a sure-footed chamois, back to “The +General.” He had ordered the men in the car +to split up part of its sides for kindling-wood. +By the use of the cross-ties, which they had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +picked up along the road, they battered down +some of the planking of the walls, and quickly +reduced it to smaller pieces. It was a thrilling +sight. The men worked as they had never +worked before. It was at the imminent risk of +falling out, however, and as the train swung +along over the track it seemed a miracle that +none of them went flying through the open sides +of the now devastated car.</p> +<p>On rushed “The General.” As it turned a +curve George, who was now in the tender, +glanced back to his right and saw—the pursuing +engine less than a mile behind.</p> +<p>“They are after us again!” he shouted. +“They have gotten past the broken rail somehow,” +he said. “They must have track repairing +instruments on board.”</p> +<p>Andrews set his lips firmly together like a man +who determines to fight to the last.</p> +<p>George made his way back to the cab. “Will +we have time to burn the bridge?” he asked.</p> +<p>“We must wait and see,” answered the leader, +as he once more left the engine and finally +reached the despoiled baggage car. He said +something to Jenks; then he returned to the cab. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>“What are you going to do?” anxiously asked +the boy. He could hear the shrill whistle of the +pursuing locomotive. “Com-ing! Com-ing!” +it seemed to say to his overwrought imagination.</p> +<p>Andrews made no answer to George; instead +he shouted a command to the engineer: “Reverse +your engine, and move backwards at full +speed!”</p> +<p>The engineer, without asking any questions, +did as he was told. Jenks ran through to the +second car and contrived, after some delay caused +by the roughness of the motion, to uncouple it +from the third. This last car was now entirely +loose from the train, and would have been left +behind had it not been that the engine had already +begun to go back. Faster and faster +moved “The General” to the rear.</p> +<p>“Go forward again,” finally ordered Andrews. +The engine slowly came to a standstill, and then +plunged forward once more. Now George could +see the meaning of this manœuvre. The third +car, being uncoupled, went running back towards +the enemy’s tender. Andrews hoped to effect a +collision.</p> +<p>But the engineer of the pursuing locomotive +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +was evidently ready for such an emergency. He +reversed his engine, and was soon running backwards. +When the baggage car struck the tender +no harm was done; the shock must have been +very slight. In another minute the enemy’s engine +was puffing onward again in the wake of +the fugitives, while the car was being pushed +along in front of the tender.</p> +<p>“That didn’t work very well,” said Andrews, +placidly. “Let’s try them again.”</p> +<p>Once more “The General” was reversed. +This time the second car was uncoupled and +sent flying back. “The General” was now +hauling only the tender and the one baggage car +in which the majority of the members of the +party were confined. The second attempt, however, +met with no better result than the first: +the enemy pursued the same tactics as before; +reversing the locomotive, and avoiding a serious +collision. It now started anew on the pursuit, +pushing the two unattached cars ahead of it, apparently +little hampered as to speed by the incumbrance. +And now, unfortunately enough, +the bridge was in plain view, only a few hundred +yards ahead. As the enemy turned a new curve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +George caught a view of the tender. A dozen +men, armed with rifles, were standing up in it; +he could see the gleam of the rifle barrels.</p> +<p>“More oil,” ordered Andrews. The boy +seized the can, and poured some more of the +greasy liquid into the fiery furnace. He knew +that the wood was almost exhausted, and that it +would soon be impossible to hold the present rate +of progress. Oh, if there only would be time to +burn the bridge, and thus check the pursuers! +But he saw that he was hoping for the impracticable.</p> +<p>“Shall we stop on the bridge?” asked the +engineer, in a hoarse voice.</p> +<p>“It’s too late,” answered Andrews. “Keep +her flying.”</p> +<p>Over the bridge went the engine, with the +pursuers only a short distance behind.</p> +<p>“Let us have some of that kindling-wood for +the furnace,” shouted Andrews to the men in the +baggage car. The men began to pitch wood +from the door of the car into the tender, and +George transferred some of it to the furnace.</p> +<p>“That’s better,” cried the engineer. “We +need wood more than we need a kingdom!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span></p> +<p>“Throw out some of those cross-ties,” thundered +the leader. The men dropped a tie here +and there on the track, so that a temporary +obstruction might be presented to the pursuing +locomotive.</p> +<p>“That’s some help,” said Andrews, as he +craned his neck out of the cab window and +looked back along the line. “Those ties will +make them stop a while, any way.” In fact the +enemy had already stopped upon encountering +the first log; two men from the tender were +moving it from the track.</p> +<p>“We’ve a good fighting chance yet,” cried +Andrews, whose enthusiasm had suddenly returned. +“If we can burn another bridge, and +block these fellows, the day is ours!”</p> +<p>“The water in the boiler is almost gone!” announced +the engineer.</p> +<p>George’s heart sank. What meant all the +wood in the world without a good supply of +water? But Andrews was equal to the emergency. +“Can you hold out for another mile or +so?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Just about that, and no more,” came the +answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p> +<p>“All right. We are about to run by Tilton station. +A little beyond that, if I remember rightly, +is a water tank.” Andrews, in his capacity as +a spy within the Southern lines, knew Georgia +well, and had frequently traveled over this +particular railroad. It was his acquaintance +with the line, indeed, that had enabled him to +get through thus far without failure.</p> +<p>Past Tilton ran “The General,” as it nearly +swept two frightened rustics from the platform. +Then the engine began to slow up, until it finally +rested at the water tank.</p> +<p>“I was right,” said Andrews. He leaped +from the cab, and gazed down the line. “The +enemy is not in sight now,” he cried. “Those +ties are giving them trouble. Put some more on +the track, boys. George, try some more wire-cutting. +Brown, get your boiler filled.”</p> +<p>In an incredibly short space of time the +telegraph wire had been cut, the engine was +provided with water, and some more ties had +been placed upon the track in the rear. What a +curious scene the party presented; how tired, +and dirty, yet how courageous they all looked.</p> +<p>“Shall we take up a rail?” demanded Macgreggor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +Scarcely had the words left his lips +before the whistle of the enemy was again +heard.</p> +<p>“No time,” shouted the leader. “Let’s be +off!”</p> +<p>Off went the train—the grimy, panting engine, +the tender, and the one baggage car, which was +now literally torn to pieces in the frantic endeavor +to provide kindling-wood.</p> +<p>“We want more wood,” George shouted back +to the men after they had proceeded a couple of +miles. Some wood was thrown into the tender +from the baggage car, with the gloomy news: +“This is all we have left!”</p> +<p>“No more wood after this,” explained George.</p> +<p>“All right,” answered Andrews, very cheerfully. +“Tell them to throw out a few more ties +on the track—as long as they’re too big to burn +in our furnace.”</p> +<p>The order was shouted back to the car. It +was instantly obeyed. There was now another +obstruction for the enemy; but George wondered +how Andrews, full of resources though he might +be, would find more wood for the engine. But +Andrews was equal even to this. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></p> +<p>“Stop!” cried the leader, after they had passed +up the line about a mile from where the ties had +been last thrown out. “The General” was soon +motionless, breathing and quivering like some +blooded horse which had been suddenly reined in +during a race.</p> +<p>“Here’s more work for you, boys,” cried +Andrews. He was already on the ground, pointing +to the wooden fences which encompassed the +fields on both sides of the track. The men +needed no further prompting. In less than three +minutes a large number of rails were reposing in +the tender. George regarded them with an expression +of professional pride, as befitted the +fireman of the train.</p> +<p>“No trouble about wood or water now,” he +said, as “The General” tore onward again.</p> +<p>“No,” replied the leader. “We will beat those +Southerners yet!” He positively refused to +think of failure at this late stage of the game. +Yet it was a game that did not seem to promise +certain success.</p> +<p>Thus the race continued, with “The General” +sometimes rocking and reeling like a drunken +man. On they rushed, past small stations, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +swinging around curves with the men in the car +sitting on the floor and clinging to one another +for fear they would be knocked out by the +roughness of the motion. As George thought of +this terrible journey in after years he wondered +why it was that engine, car and passengers were +not hurled headlong from the track.</p> +<p>“We are coming to Dalton,” suddenly announced +Andrews. Dalton was a good-sized +town twenty-two miles above Calhoun, and +formed a junction with the line running to +Cleveland, Tennessee.</p> +<p>“We must be careful here,” said Andrews, +“for we don’t know who may be waiting to receive +us. If a telegram was sent via the coast +up to Richmond, and then down to Dalton, our +real character may be known. Brown, be ready +to reverse your engine if I give the signal—then +we’ll back out of the town, abandon the train, +and take to the open fields.”</p> +<p>George wondered if, by doing this, they would +not fall into the hands of their pursuers. But +there was no chance for argument.</p> +<p>The speed of “The General” was now slackened, +so that the engine approached the station +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +at a rate of not more than fifteen miles an hour. +Andrews saw nothing unusual on the platform; +no soldiers; no preparations for arrest.</p> +<p>“Go ahead,” he said, “and stop at the platform. +The coast’s clear so far.”</p> +<p>It was necessary that a stop should be made at +Dalton for the reason that there were switches +at this point, owing to the junction of the Cleveland +line, and it would be impossible to run by +the station without risking a bad accident. It +was necessary, furthermore, that this stop should +be as brief as possible, for the dilapidated looks +of the broken baggage car and the general appearance +of the party were such as to invite suspicion +upon too close a scrutiny. Then, worse still, +the enemy might arrive at any moment. Andrews +was again equal to the occasion. As the forlorn +train drew up at the station he assumed the air +and bearing of a major-general, told some plausible +story about being on his way with dispatches +for Beauregard, and ordered that the switches +should be immediately changed so that he could +continue on to Chattanooga. Once again did his +confident manner hoodwink the railroad officials. +The switch was changed, and “The General” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +was quickly steaming out of Dalton. The citizens +on the platform looked after the party as if +they could not quite understand what the whole +thing meant.</p> +<p>“Shall we cut a wire?” asked George.</p> +<p>“What is the good?” returned Andrews. +“The enemy’s engine will reach Dalton in a +minute or two—perhaps they are there now—and +they can telegraph on to Chattanooga by +way of the wires on the Cleveland line. It’s a +roundabout way, but it will answer their purpose +just as well.”</p> +<p>“Then we dare not keep on to Chattanooga?” +asked George, in a tone of keen regret. He had +fondly pictured a triumphant run through Chattanooga, +and an ultimate meeting with the +forces of Mitchell somewhere to the westward, +accompanied by the applause of the troops and +many kind words from the General.</p> +<p>“Not now,” answered the leader. “We may +yet burn a bridge or two, and then take to the +woods. It would be folly to enter Chattanooga +only to be caught.”</p> +<p>At last Andrews saw that he must change his +plans. He had hoped, by burning a bridge, to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +head off the pursuing engine before now; his +failure to do this, and the complication caused by +the telegraph line to Cleveland, told him that he +must come to a halt before reaching Chattanooga. +To run into that city would be to jump +deliberately into the lion’s mouth.</p> +<p>“Let us see if there’s time to break a rail,” +suddenly said the leader. The train was stopped, +within sight of a small camp of Confederate +troops, and the men started to loosen one of the +rails. But hardly had they begun their work +when there came the hated whistling from the +pursuing engine. The adventurers abandoned +their attempt, leaped to their places in cab and +car, and “The General” again sped onward. +There were no cross-ties remaining; this form of +obstruction could no longer be used. It was +now raining hard; all the fates seemed to be +combining against the plucky little band of +Northerners.</p> +<p>Andrews began at last to see that the situation +was growing desperate.</p> +<p>“There’s still one chance,” he muttered. He +knew that he would soon pass a bridge, and he +went on to elaborate in his mind an ingenious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +plan by which the structure might be burned +without making delay necessary, or risking a +meeting with the pursuers. He scrambled his +way carefully back to the baggage car.</p> +<p>“Boys,” he said, “I want you to set fire to +this car, and then all of you crawl into the +tender.”</p> +<p>There was a bustle in the car at once, although +no one asked a question. The men made a valiant +effort to ignite what was left of the splintered +walls and roof of the car. But it was hard +work. The rain, combined with the wind produced +by the rapid motion of the train, made it +impossible to set anything on fire even by a very +plentiful use of matches.</p> +<p>“We’ll have to get something better than +matches,” growled Watson. He had just been +saved from pitching out upon the roadside by the +quick efforts of one of his companions, who had +seized him around the waist in the nick of time. +Andrews went to the forward platform of the +car.</p> +<p>“Can’t you get us a piece of burning wood +over here,” he called to George.</p> +<p>The lad took a fence rail from the tender, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +placed it in the furnace, until one end was blazing, +and then contrived to hand it to the leader +from the rear of the tender. Andrews seized it, +and applied the firebrand to several places in the +car. But it was no easy task to make a conflagration; +it seemed as if the rail would merely +smoulder.</p> +<p>“Stop the engine,” he ordered. “The General” +was brought to a halt, and then, when the +artificial wind had ceased, the rail flared up. +Soon the torn walls and roof of the car burst +into flames.</p> +<p>“Into the tender, boys,” cried Andrews. The +men needed no second bidding. The fire was +already burning fiercely enough, despite the rain, +to make their surroundings anything but comfortable. +They scrambled into the tender. The +engineer put his hand to the lever, pulled the +throttle, and the party were again on the wing +although at a slow and constantly lessening rate +of speed. At last they scarcely moved.</p> +<p>“The General” was now passing over the +bridge—a covered structure of wood. Andrews +uncoupled the blazing car, and climbed back into +the tender. The engine again sped on, leaving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +the burning car in the middle of the bridge. The +scheme of the leader was apparent; he hoped +that the flames would be communicated to the +roof of the bridge, and so to the entire wood-work, +including the railroad ties and lower +beams.</p> +<p>“At last!” thought Andrews. He would have +the satisfaction of destroying one bridge at least—and +he would put an impassable barrier between +the enemy and himself. His joy was, +however, only too short lived. The Confederates +boldly ran towards the bridge.</p> +<p>“They won’t dare to tackle that car,” said +George, as “The General” kept moving onward. +Yet the pursuing engine, instead of +putting on brakes, glided through the bridge, +pushing the burning car in front of it. When it +reached the other side of the stream the car was +switched off on a siding, and the enemy prepared +to sweep onwards. The bridge was saved; +Andrews’ plan had failed. The Northerners gave +groans of disappointment as they fled along in +front.</p> +<p>Finally it was resolved to make a last stop, +and to attempt to pull up a rail. The enemy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +was now some distance behind, having been delayed +by the time necessarily consumed in switching +off the car, so that there seemed a reasonable +chance of executing this piece of strategy. +When the men had again alighted on firm +ground several of them felt actually seasick +from the jolting of the engine and tender. It +was now that one of the party made a novel proposition +to Andrews. The plan seemed to have +a good deal to recommend it, considering how +desperate was the present situation.</p> +<p>“Let us run the engine on,” he said, “until we +are out of sight of the enemy, and are near some +of the bushes which dot the track. Then we can +tear up a rail, or obstruct the track in some way, +and quickly hide ourselves in the bushes. The +engineer will stay in ‘The General,’ and, as soon +as the enemy comes in sight, can continue up +the road, just as if we were all on board. When +the Confederates reach the broken rail, and prepare +to fix it, we can all rush out at them and +fire our revolvers. They will be taken by surprise—we +will have the advantage.”</p> +<p>“That sounds logical enough,” observed Andrews; +“it’s worth trying, if——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p> +<p>Again the enemy’s whistle sounded ominously +near. There was no chance to argue about anything +now. The men leaped to their places, +and “The General” was quickly gotten under +way.</p> +<p>Watson looked at Jenks, next to whom he was +huddled in the tender.</p> +<p>“How long is this sort of thing to be kept +up?” he asked. “I’d far rather get out and +fight the fellows than run along this way!”</p> +<p>Jenks brushed the rain from his grimy face +but made no answer.</p> +<p>“This all comes from that fatal delay at Kingston,” +announced Macgreggor. “We would be +just an hour ahead if it hadn’t been for those +wretched freight trains.”</p> +<p>The enemy’s engine gave an exultant whistle. +“Vic-to-ry! Vic-to-ry!” it seemed to shriek.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_ENERGETIC_PURSUIT' id='VII_ENERGETIC_PURSUIT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>ENERGETIC PURSUIT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Who were pursuing the Northern adventurers, +and how did they learn the story of the stolen +engine? To answer these questions let us go +back to Big Shanty at the moment when the +train having the conspirators on board reached +that station from Marietta. The conductor, +William Fuller, the engineer, Jefferson Cain,—and +Anthony Murphy, a railroad official from +Atlanta, were among those who went into the +“Shanty” to enjoy breakfast. They were naturally +unsuspicious of any plot; the deserted engine +seemed absolutely secure as it stood within very +sight of an encampment of the Confederate army.</p> +<p>Suddenly Murphy heard something that +sounded like escaping steam. “Why, some one +is at your engine,” he cried to Fuller, as he +jumped from his seat. Quick as a flash Fuller +ran to the door of the dining-room.</p> +<p>“Some one’s stealing our train!” he shouted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +“Come on, Cain!” The passengers rushed from +their half-tasted meal to the platform. The conductor +began to run up the track, followed by his +two companions, as the train moved rapidly away.</p> +<p>“Jerusha!” laughed one of the passengers, a +gouty-looking old gentleman; “do those fellows +expect to beat an engine that way?”</p> +<p>The crowd joined in the fun of the thing, and +wondered what the whole scene could mean. +Perhaps it was but the prank of mischievous +boys who were intent on taking an exciting ride.</p> +<p>“What’s up, anyway?” asked Murphy, as the +three went skimming along on the railroad ties, +and the train drew farther and farther away +from them.</p> +<p>“I’ll bet some conscripts have deserted from +camp,” cried Fuller. “They’ll run up the line a +mile or two, then leave the engine and escape +into the woods.” He did not imagine, as yet, +that his train was in the hands of Northern +soldiers.</p> +<p>On, on, went the trio until they reached the +point where George had cut the wire.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said Cain; “they’ve cut the +wire! And look at the broken rail!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></p> +<p>One glance was sufficient to show that the engine +thieves, whoever they might be, knew their +business pretty well. There was something +more in this affair than a mere escape of conscripts.</p> +<p>“Look up the road,” said Murphy. He +pointed to some workmen who had a hand-car +near the track, not far above him. Hurrying on, +the trio soon reached these men, explained to +them what had happened, and impressed them +into the service of pursuit. In two or three +minutes the whole party were flying up the line +on the hand-car.</p> +<p>“Kingston is nearly thirty miles away,” explained +Fuller, as they bowled along. “I don’t +know who the fellows are, but they’ll be blocked +by freight when they get there, and we may +manage to reach them somehow.” Even if the +unknown enemy got beyond Kingston, he +thought he might yet reach them if he could +only find an engine. The whole escapade was a +puzzle, but the three men were determined to +bring back “The General.”</p> +<p>Thus they swept anxiously but smoothly on +until—presto! The whole party suddenly leaped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +into the air, and then descended into a ditch, +with the hand-car falling after them. They had +reached the place where the telegraph pole obstructed +the track. They had turned a sharp +curve, and were on it, before they realized the +danger.</p> +<p>“No one hurt, boys?” asked Murphy.</p> +<p>No one was hurt, strange to say.</p> +<p>“Up with the car,” cried Fuller. The hand-car +was lifted to the track, beyond the telegraph +pole, and the journey was resumed.</p> +<p>“Shall we find an engine here?” thought +Fuller, as the car approached Etowah station.</p> +<p>“There are iron furnaces near here,” said +Murphy, “and I know that an engine named +‘The Yonah’ has been built to drag material +from the station to the furnaces. It’s one of the +finest locomotives in the South.”</p> +<p>“I hope that hasn’t been stolen too,” said +Cain.</p> +<p>Now they were at the station. They knew +that it would be impossible to make the necessary +speed with a hand-car. If they were to +reach the runaways they <i>must</i> obtain an engine, +and quickly at that. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p> +<p>“By all that’s lucky,” shouted Murphy; +“there’s ‘The Yonah’!”</p> +<p>There, right alongside the platform, was the +welcome engine. It was about to start on a +trip to the iron furnaces. The steam was up; +the fire was burning brightly.</p> +<p>Etowah was ablaze with excitement as soon +as the pursuers explained what had happened.</p> +<p>“I must have ‘The Yonah,’” cried Fuller, +“and I want some armed men to go along with +me!” No question now about seizing the +engine; no question as to the armed men. With +hardly any delay Fuller was steaming to the +northward with “The Yonah,” and the tender +was crowded with plucky Southerners carrying +loaded rifles. The speed of the engine was at +the rate of a mile a minute, and how it did fly, +to be sure. Yet it seemed as if Kingston would +never be reached.</p> +<p>When, at last, they did glide up to the station, +Fuller learned that the alleged Confederate train +bearing powder to General Beauregard had left +but a few minutes before. Great was the amazement +when he announced that the story of the +leader was all a blind, invented to cover up one +of the boldest escapades of the war.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +<img src='images/illus2.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 283px; height: 430px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 283px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Fuller was Steaming to the Northward with “The Yonah”</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></div> +<p>But now Fuller was obliged to leave the faithful +“Yonah.” The blockade of trains at Kingston +was such that it would have required some +time before the engine could get through any +farther on the main track. He seized another +engine, which could quickly be given the right +of way, and rushed forward. Two cars were +attached to the tender; in it were more armed +men, hastily recruited at Kingston. They were +ready for desperate work.</p> +<p>“‘The Yonah’ was a better engine than this +one,” said Murphy, regretfully, before they had +run more than two or three miles. He spoke the +truth; the new engine had not the speed of “The +Yonah.” The difference was quite apparent.</p> +<p>“We must do the best we can with her,” said +Fuller. “Put a little engine oil into the furnace. +We’ll give her a gentle stimulant.”</p> +<p>His order was promptly obeyed, but the locomotive +could not be made to go faster than at +the rate of forty miles an hour. Murphy and +Cain were both at the lever, keeping their eyes +fixed as far up the line as possible, so that they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +might stop the train in good time should they +see any obstruction on the track. Thus they +jogged along for some miles until the two men +made a simultaneous exclamation, and reversed +the engine. In front of them, not more than a +hundred yards away, was a large gap in the +track. It marked the place where the Northerners +had taken up the rails south of Adairsville.</p> +<p>“Jupiter! That was a close shave!” cried +Murphy. For the train had been halted within +less than five feet of the break. Out jumped the +whole party, Fuller, Cain and Murphy from the +cab, and the armed men from the cars. The +delay, it was supposed, would be only temporary; +there were track-laying instruments in the car; +the rails could soon be reset. But when it was +seen that each of the rails had disappeared (for +our adventurers had carried them off with them) +there was a murmur of disgust and disappointment.</p> +<p>“Why not tear up some rails in the rear of +the train, and lay them in the break,” suggested +one of the Southerners.</p> +<p>“That will take too long,” cried Fuller, and to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +this statement Murphy readily assented. As it +was, the stolen “General” was far enough ahead +of them; too far ahead, indeed. If the pursuers +waited here for such a complicated piece of work +as this tearing up and re-laying of the track, +they might lose the race altogether. The conductor +and Murphy started once more to run up +the road-bed (just as they had footed it earlier in +the morning at Big Shanty), and left the rest of +the party to mend the track.</p> +<p>Were they merely running on in an aimless +way? Not by any means. They had not +gone very far before the freight train which +Andrews had encountered at Adairsville came +groaning down the track. The two men made +violent gesticulations as signals to the engineer, +and the train was slowly stopped.</p> +<p>“Did you meet ‘The General’?” cried Fuller.</p> +<p>The freight engineer told the story of the impressed +powder-train that was hurrying on to +Beauregard, and of the fine-looking, imperious +Confederate who was in command.</p> +<p>“Well, that Confederate is a <i>Yankee</i>,” came +the explanation.</p> +<p>The freight engineer made use of some expressions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +which were rather uncomplimentary to +Andrews. To think that the supposed Confederate, +who had acted as if he owned the whole +State of Georgia, was an enemy—a spy! Why, +the thought was provoking enough to ruffle the +most placid temper. And the engineer’s natural +temper was by no means placid.</p> +<p>“I must have your engine to catch these +fellows!” said Fuller. Naturally there was no +dissent to this command. He quickly backed the +train to Adairsville, where the freight cars were +dropped. Then Fuller, with engine and tender +still reversed (for there was no turn-table available), +hurried northward on the way to Calhoun +station.</p> +<p>“This engine is a great sight better than the +last one I had,” said the conductor, in a tone of +exultation, to Bracken, his new engineer.</p> +<p>“Ah, ‘The Texas’ is the finest engine in the +whole state,” answered Bracken, with the air of +a proud father speaking of a child.</p> +<p>They were tearing along at a terrific speed +when Bracken suddenly reversed “The Texas” +and brought her to a halt with a shock that +would have thrown less experienced men out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +the cab. On the track in front of them were +some of the cross-ties which the fugitives had +thrown out of their car. Fortunately Fuller had +just taken his position on the tender in front and +gave the signal the instant he saw the ties. +As “The Texas” stood there, all quivering and +panting, the conductor jumped to the ground and +threw the ties from the track; then he mounted +the tender again, and the engine kept on to the +northward with its smoke-stack and headlight +pointed in the opposite direction. The same +program was repeated later on, where more ties +were encountered.</p> +<p>When “The Texas” dashed into Calhoun it +had run a distance of ten miles, including the +time spent in removing cross-ties, in exactly +twelve minutes.</p> +<p>“I’m after the Yankees who’re in my stolen +engine,” cried Fuller to the idlers on the platform. +“I want armed volunteers!” He wasted +no words; the story was complete as he thus +told it; the effect was magical. Men with rifles +were soon clambering into the tender. As “The +Texas” glided away from the platform Fuller +stretched out his sturdy right arm to a boy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +standing thereon and pulled him, with a vigorous +jerk, into the cab. The next minute the +engine was gone. The lad was a young telegraph +operator whom the conductor had recognized. +There was no employment for him as +yet, because the wires were cut along the line, +but there might be need for him later.</p> +<p>Fuller was now aglow with hope. He was +brave, energetic and full of expedients, as we +have seen, and he was warming up more and +more as the possibility of overtaking “The +General” became the greater. From what he +had learned at Calhoun he knew that the Northerners +were only a short distance ahead. His +promptness seemed about to be crowned with a +glorious reward. He might even make prisoners +of the reckless train-robbers.</p> +<p>And there, not more than a mile in front of +him, was “The General”! He saw the engine +and the three baggage cars, and his heart +bounded at the welcome sight. Then he espied +the men working on the track, and saw them, +later, as they rapidly boarded their train. The +Southerners in the tender of “The Texas” +cheered, and held firmly to their rifles. At any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +second now might their weapons be needed in a +fight at close quarters.</p> +<p>Of the chase from this point to Dalton we already +know. Before Fuller reached that station +he knew that it would be possible to send a +telegram to Chattanooga, by way of Cleveland, +even if the Northerners should cut the wires on +the main line.</p> +<p>“Here,” he said to the young telegraph +operator, “I want you to send a telegram to +General Leadbetter, commanding general at +Chattanooga, as soon as we get to Dalton. Put +it through both ways if you can, but by the +Cleveland line at any rate.” The conductor +took a paper from his wallet and wrote a few +words of warning to General Leadbetter, telling +him not to let “The General” and its crew get +past Chattanooga. “My train was captured this +morning at Big Shanty, evidently by Federal +soldiers in disguise,” he penciled.</p> +<p>On the arrival at Dalton this telegram was +sent, exactly as the shrewd Andrews had +prophesied. Then “The Texas” fled away from +Dalton and the chase continued, as we have +seen in the previous chapter, until a point of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +railroad about thirteen miles from Chattanooga +was reached.</p> +<p>In the cab of “The General” Andrews was +standing with his head bowed down; his stock +of hopefulness had suddenly vanished. At last +he saw that the expedition, of which he had +cherished such high expectations, was a complete +failure. A few miles in front was Chattanooga, +where capture awaited them, while a mile in the +rear were well-armed men.</p> +<p>“There’s only one thing left to do,” he said +mournfully to George, who was regarding his +chief with anxious interest. “We must abandon +the engine, scatter, and get back to General +Mitchell’s lines as best we can, each in his own +way!”</p> +<p>Then the leader put his hand on the engineer’s +shoulder. “Stop the engine,” he said; “the +game is up; the dance is over!”</p> +<p>The engineer knew only too well what Andrews +meant. He obeyed the order, and the +tired “General,” which had faithfully carried +the party for about a hundred miles, panted and +palpitated like a dying horse. The great locomotive +was, indeed, in a pitiable condition. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +brass of the journals and boxes was melted by +the heat; the steel tires were actually red-hot, +and the steam issued from all the loosened +joints.</p> +<p>Andrews turned to the men who were huddled +together in the tender.</p> +<p>“Every man for himself, boys,” he cried. +“You must scatter and do the best you can to +steal into the Federal lines. I’ve led you as well +as I could—but the fates were against us. God +bless you, boys, and may we all meet again!”</p> +<p>As he spoke the leader—now a leader no +longer—threw some papers into the furnace of +the locomotive. In a twinkling they were reduced +to ashes. They were Federal documents. +One of them was a letter from General Mitchell +which, had it been found upon Andrews by the +Confederates, would in itself have proved evidence +enough to convict him as a spy.</p> +<p>The men in the tender jumped to the ground. +So, likewise, did George, the engineer and his +assistant. Andrews remained standing in the +cab. He looked like some sea captain who was +waiting to sink beneath the waves in his deserted +ship. He worked at the lever and touched the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +valve, and then leaped from his post to the roadbed. +The next moment “The General” was +moving backwards towards the oncoming +“Texas.”</p> +<p>“We’ll give them a little taste of collision!” +he cried. His companions turned their eyes towards +the departing “General.” If the engine +would only run with sufficient force into the +enemy, the latter might—well, it was hard to +predict what might not happen. Much depended +on the next minute.</p> +<p>There was a whistle from “The Texas.” +“The General” kept on to the rear, but at a +slow pace. No longer did the staunch machine +respond to the throttle. The fire in the furnace +was burning low; there was little or no steam; +the iron horse was spent and lame.</p> +<p>The adventurers looked on, first expectantly, +then gloomily. They saw that “The General” +was incapacitated; they saw, too, that the +enemy reversed their own engine, and ran backwards +until the poor “General” came to a complete +standstill. Pursuit was thus delayed, but +by no means checked.</p> +<p>“That’s no good,” sighed Andrews. “Come, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +comrades, while there is still time, and off with +us in different parties. Push to the westward, +and we may come up to Mitchell’s forces on the +other side of Chattanooga.”</p> +<p>Soon the men were running to the shelter of a +neighboring wood. George seemed glued to the +sight of the departing “General.” He felt as if +an old friend was leaving him, and so he was +one of the last to move. As he, too, finally ran +off, Waggie, who had been released from his +master’s pocket, bounded by his side as if the +whole proceeding were an enjoyable picnic. +When George reached the wood many of the men +were already invisible. He found Watson leaning +against a tree, pale and breathless.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked the boy anxiously.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” said Watson. “This rough journey +over this crooked railroad has shaken me up +a bit. I’ll be all right in a minute. Just wait +and we’ll go along together. I wouldn’t like to +see any harm happen to you, youngster, while I +have an arm to protect you.</p> +<p>“Come on,” he continued, when he had regained +his breath; “we can’t stay here. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +wonder why Mitchell didn’t push on and capture +Chattanooga. Then we would not have had to +desert the old engine.”</p> +<p>The fact was that General Mitchell, after +capturing Huntsville on April the 11th, had +moved into the country to the northeastward +until he came within thirty miles of Chattanooga. +At this point he waited, hoping to hear +that Andrews and his companions had destroyed +the railroad communications from Chattanooga. +No such news reached him, however; he feared +that the party had failed, and he was unable to +advance farther, under the circumstances, without +receiving reinforcements. But of all this +Watson was ignorant.</p> +<p>The man and boy stole out of the wet woods, +and thence a short distance to the westward +until they reached the bottom of a steep hill +which was surmounted by some straggling oaks. +They started to walk briskly up the incline, followed +by Waggie. Suddenly they heard a sound +that instinctively sent a chill running up and +down George’s spine.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” he asked. “Some animal?”</p> +<p>Watson gave a grim, unpleasant laugh. “It’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +a hound,” he answered. “Come on; we don’t +want that sort of gentleman after us. He’d be a +rougher animal to handle than Waggie.”</p> +<p>George redoubled his pace. But his steps +began to lag; his brain was in a whirl; he began +to feel as if he was acting a part in some +horrible dream. Nothing about him seemed +real; it was as if his sensations were those of +another person.</p> +<p>“Anything wrong?” asked Watson, as he +saw that the lad was falling behind him.</p> +<p>“Nothing; I’m coming,” was the plucky +answer. But fatigue and hunger, and exposure +to the rain, had done their work. George tottered, +clutched at the air, and then sank on +the hillside, inert and unconscious. In a moment +Waggie was licking his face, with a pathetic +expression of inquiry in his little brown +eyes, and Watson was bending over him. Again +came the bay from the hound and the distant +cry from a human voice.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_TWO_WEARY_WANDERERS' id='VIII_TWO_WEARY_WANDERERS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>TWO WEARY WANDERERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Poor boy,” muttered Watson. “He is done +out.” He saw that George’s collapse was due to +a fainting spell, which in itself was nothing +dangerous. But when he heard the distant baying +of the dog, and heard, too, the voices of men—no +doubt some of the armed Southerners from +the pursuing train—he saw the peril that encompassed +both himself and the boy. Here +they were almost on top of a hill, near the +enemy, and with no means of escape should they +be unfortunate enough to be seen by the Southerners +or tracked by the hound. If George +could be gotten at once to the other side of the +hill he would be screened from view—otherwise +he and Watson would soon——But the soldier +did not stop to think what might happen. +He jumped quickly to his feet, seized the unconscious +George, and ran with him, as one might +have run with some helpless infant, to the top of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +the hill, and then down on the other side. Waggie +came barking after them; he seemed to ask why +it was that his master had gone to sleep in this +sudden fashion. Watson paused for a few +seconds at the bottom of the hill, and placed his +burden on the wet grass. There was as yet no +sign of returning life. Once more came that uncanny +bay. The man again took George in his +arms.</p> +<p>“We can’t stay here,” he said. He himself +was ready to drop from the fatigue and excitement +of the day, but hope of escape gave him +strength, and he ran on through an open field +until he reached some bottom-land covered by a +few unhealthy-looking pine-trees. Here he +paused, panting almost as hard as the poor vanished +“General” had done in the last stages of +its journey. He next deposited his charge on the +sodden earth. They were both still in imminent +danger of pursuit, but for the time being they +were screened from view.</p> +<p>Watson bent tenderly over the boy, whilst +Waggie pulled at his sleeve as he had been accustomed +to do far away at home when he +wanted to wake up his master. George finally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +opened his eyes and looked around him, first +dreamily, then with a startled air.</p> +<p>“It’s all right, my lad,” whispered Watson +cheerily. “You only fainted away, just for +variety, but now you are chipper enough again.”</p> +<p>George stretched his arms, raised himself to a +sitting posture, and then sank back wearily on +the ground.</p> +<p>“I’m so tired,” he said. “Can’t I go to +sleep?” He was utterly weary; he cared not if +a whole army of men and dogs was after him; +his one idea was rest—rest.</p> +<p>“This won’t do,” said Watson firmly. “We +can’t stay here.” He produced from his pocket +a little flask, poured some of the contents down +the boy’s throat, and then took a liberal drink +himself. George began to revive, as he asked +how he had been brought to his present resting-place.</p> +<p>“In my arms,” exclaimed Watson. “But I +can’t keep that sort of thing up forever. We +must get away from here. Every moment is +precious.”</p> +<p>As if to emphasize the truth of this warning, +the baying of the dog and the cries of men began +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +to sound nearer. Watson sprang to his feet. +The increase of the danger gave him new nerve; +he no longer looked the tired, haggard man of +five minutes ago.</p> +<p>“We can’t stay here,” he said, calmly but impressively; +“it would be certain capture!”</p> +<p>George was up in an instant. The draught +from the flask had invested him with new vigor.</p> +<p>“Where shall we go?” he asked. “I’m all +right again.”</p> +<p>“To the river,” answered Watson. He pointed +eagerly to the right of the pines, where they +could see, in the darkening light of the afternoon, +a swollen stream rushing madly past. It +might originally have been a small river, but +now, owing to the spring rains and freshets, it +looked turbulent and dangerous. It was difficult +to cross, yet for that very reason it would make +a barrier between pursued and pursuers. Should +the former try the experiment?</p> +<p>“Can you swim?” asked Watson.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Then we’ll risk it. After all, the water’s +safer for us than the land.”</p> +<p>Out through the pines they ran until they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +were at the water’s edge. The sight was not +encouraging. The river foamed like an angry +ocean, and a strong current was sweeping down +to the northward.</p> +<p>The soldier looked at the boy in kindly +anxiety. “The water is a little treacherous, +George,” he said. “Do you think you’re strong +enough to venture across?”</p> +<p>“Of course I am!” answered George, proudly. +He felt more like himself now; he even betrayed +a mild indignation at the doubts of his +friend.</p> +<p>“Well,” began Watson, “we had—but listen! +By Jove, those rascals have discovered us! +They’re making this way!”</p> +<p>It was true; the barking of the dog and the +sound of many voices came nearer and nearer. +Waggie began to growl fiercely, quite as if he +were large enough to try a bout with a whole +Confederate regiment.</p> +<p>“Take off your shoes, George,” cried Watson. +“Your coat and vest, too.”</p> +<p>Both the fugitives divested themselves of boots, +coats and vests; their hats they had already lost +in their flight from “The General.” In their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +trousers pockets they stuffed their watches and +some Confederate money.</p> +<p>A sudden thought crossed George’s mind. It +was a painful thought.</p> +<p>“What’s to become of Waggie?” he asked. +“I can’t leave him here.” He would as soon +have left a dear relative stranded on the bank of +the river.</p> +<p>“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave him,” said +Watson.</p> +<p>“I can’t,” replied George. There was a +second’s pause—but it seemed like the suspense +of an hour. Then the lad had a lucky inspiration. +He leaned down and drew from a side +pocket of his discarded coat a roll of strong cord +which had been used when he climbed the telegraph +poles. Pulling a knife from a pocket in +his trousers he cut a piece of the cord about two +yards in length, tied one end around his waist +and attached the other end to Waggie’s collar. +The next instant he had plunged into the icy +water, dragging the dog in after him. Watson +followed, and struck out into the torrent with +the vigor of an athlete.</p> +<p>George found at once that his work meant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +something more than keeping himself afloat. +The current was rapid, and it required all his +power to keep from being carried down the river +like a helpless log. Waggie was sputtering and +pawing the water in his master’s wake.</p> +<p>“Keep going,” shouted Watson. “This current’s +no joke!” Even he was having no child’s +play.</p> +<p>Just then George had his mouth full of water; +he could only go on battling manfully. But he +began to feel a great weakness. Was he about +to faint again? He dared not think of it. +There was a loosening of the cord around his +waist. He looked to his left and there was +Waggie floating down the stream like a tiny piece +of wood. His head had slipped from his collar.</p> +<p>Watson tried to grab the dog as he floated by, +but it was too late. He might as well have tried +to change the tide.</p> +<p>“Go on, George, go on!” he urged, breathlessly. +The boy struggled onward, but he had +already overtaxed his strength. He became +dizzy; his arms and legs refused to work.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” sputtered his companion, +who was now alongside of him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>“Go on; don’t mind me,” said George, in a +choking voice.</p> +<p>“Put your hand on my belt,” sternly commanded +Watson. The young swimmer obeyed, +scarcely knowing what he did. Watson kept on +like a giant fish, sometimes in danger of being +swept away, and sometimes drawing a few feet +nearer to the opposite bank.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>The next thing that George knew was when +he found himself lying on the river’s edge. Watson +was peering at him anxiously.</p> +<p>“That’s right; open your eyes,” he said. +“We had a narrow escape, but we’re over the +river at last. I just got you over in time, for +when we neared shore you let go of me, and I +had to pull you in by the hair of your head.”</p> +<p>“How can I ever thank you,” said George, +feebly but gratefully.</p> +<p>“By not trying,” answered Watson. “Come, +there’s not a second to lose. Don’t you hear +our enemies?”</p> +<p>There was no doubt as to the answer to that +question. Across the river sounded the baying +and the harsh human voices. Almost before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +George realized what had happened Watson had +pulled him a dozen yards away to a spot behind +a large boulder.</p> +<p>“Keep on your back!” he ordered. “The +men are on the other bank.”</p> +<p>None too soon had he executed this manœuvre. +He and George could hear, above the noise of +the rushing stream, the tones of their pursuers. +They had just reached the river, and must be +searching for the two Northerners. More than +once the hound gave a loud whine, as if he were +baffled or disappointed.</p> +<p>“They can’t be here,” came a voice from across +the river. “We had better go back; they may +be down the railroad track.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps they swam across the stream,” urged +some one else.</p> +<p>“That would be certain death!” answered the +first voice.</p> +<p>There was a whining from the dog, as if he +had discovered a scent. Then a simultaneous +cry from several sturdy lungs. “Look at these +coats and boots!” “They did try to cross, after +all.” “Well, they never got over in this current!” +“They must have been carried down +the Chickamauga and been drowned!” Such +were the exclamations which were wafted to the +ears of the two fugitives behind the rock.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +<img src='images/illus3.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 282px; height: 427px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 282px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>None too Soon Had He Executed this Manœuvre</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></div> +<p>“The Chickamauga,” said Watson, under his +breath. “So that’s the name of the river, eh?”</p> +<p>There was evidently some heated discussion +going on among the unseen pursuers. At length +one of them cried: “Well, comrades, as there’s +not one of us who wants to swim over the river +in its present state, and as the fools may even be +drowned by this time, I move we go home. The +whole countryside will be on the lookout for the +rest of the engine thieves by to-morrow—and +they won’t escape us before then.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense,” interrupted a voice, “don’t you +know night’s just the time which they will take +for escape?”</p> +<p>“Are you ready, then, to swim across the +Chickamauga?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Then go home, and don’t talk nonsense! To-morrow, +when the river is less angry, we will be +up by dawn—and then for a good hunt!”</p> +<p>Apparently the advice of the last speaker was +considered wise, for the men left the river bank. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +At last their voices could be no longer heard in +the distance. The shades of twilight began to +fall, and the rain ceased. Then Watson and his +companion crawled cautiously from behind the +boulder. They were two as dilapidated creatures +as ever drew breath under a southern sky. +With soaking shirts and trousers, and without +coats, vests, or shoes, they looked the picture +of destitution. And their feelings! They were +hungry, dispirited, exhausted. All the pleasure +seemed to have gone out of life.</p> +<p>“We can’t stay in this charming spot all +night,” said Watson, sarcastically.</p> +<p>“I suppose a rock is as good as anything else +we can find,” answered the boy gloomily. +“Poor Waggie! Why did I try to drag him +across the river?”</p> +<p>“Poor little midget,” said Watson. “I’ll +never forget the appealing look in his eyes as he +went sailing past me.”</p> +<p>“Do you hear that?” cried George.</p> +<p>“Hear what? Some one after us again?”</p> +<p>“No; it’s a dog barking!”</p> +<p>“Why, it sounds like Waggie, but it can’t be +he. He’s gone to another world.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p> +<p>“No, he hasn’t,” answered George. He forgot +his weakness, and started to run down the +bank, in the direction whence the sound proceeded. +Watson remained behind; he could not +believe that it was the dog.</p> +<p>In the course of several minutes George came +running back. He was holding in his hands a +little animal that resembled a drowned rat. It +was Waggie—very wet, very bedraggled, but +still alive.</p> +<p>“Well, if that isn’t a miracle!” cried Watson. +He stroked the dripping back of the rescued dog, +whereupon Waggie looked up at him with a +grateful gleam in his eyes.</p> +<p>“I found him just below here, lying on a bit +of rock out in the water a few feet away from +the bank,” enthusiastically explained George. +“He must have been hurled there, by the +current.”</p> +<p>Watson laughed.</p> +<p>“Well, Waggie,” he said, “we make three wet +looking tramps, don’t we? And I guess you are +just as hungry as the rest.”</p> +<p>Waggie wagged his tail with great violence.</p> +<p>“Think of a warm, comfortable bed,” observed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +the boy, with a sort of grim humor; “and a +nice supper beforehand of meat—and eggs——”</p> +<p>“And hot coffee—and biscuits—and a pipe of +tobacco for me, after the supper,” went on Watson. +He turned from the river and peered into +the rapidly increasing gloom. About a mile inland, +almost directly in front of him, there shone +a cheerful light.</p> +<p>George, who also saw the gleam, rubbed his +hands across his empty stomach, in a comical +fashion.</p> +<p>“There must be supper there,” he said, pointing +to the house.</p> +<p>“But we don’t dare eat it,” replied his friend. +“The people within fifty miles of here will be on +the lookout for any of Andrews’ party—and +the mere appearance of us will be enough to +arouse suspicion—and yet——”</p> +<p>Watson hesitated; he was in a quandary. He +was not a bit frightened, but he felt that the +chances of escape for George and himself were +at the ratio of one to a thousand. He knew +actually nothing of the geography of the surrounding +country, and he felt that as soon as +morning arrived the neighborhood would be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +searched far and wide. Had he been alone he +might have tried to walk throughout the night +until he had placed fifteen or twenty miles between +himself and his pursuers. But when he +thought of George’s condition he realized that it +would be a physical impossibility to drag the +tired lad very far.</p> +<p>Finally Watson started away towards the distant +light.</p> +<p>“Stay here till I get back,” he said to George; +“I’m going to explore.”</p> +<p>In less than an hour he had returned to the +river’s bank.</p> +<p>“We’re in luck,” he said joyously. “I stole +across to where that light is, and found it came +from a little stone house. I crept into the +garden on my hands and knees—there was no +dog there, thank heaven—and managed to get a +glimpse into the parlor through a half-closed +blind. There sat a sweet-faced, white-haired old +gentleman, evidently a minister of the gospel, +reading a chapter from the scriptures to an +elderly lady and two girls—his wife and children +I suppose. He can’t have heard anything +about our business yet—for I heard him ask one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +of the girls, after he stopped reading, what all +the blowing of locomotive whistles meant this +afternoon—and she didn’t know. So we can +drop in on them to-night, ask for supper and a +bed, and be off at daybreak to-morrow before +the old fellow has gotten wind of anything.”</p> +<p>Soon they were off, Watson, George and +Waggie, and covered the fields leading to the +house in unusually quick time for such tired +wanderers. When they reached the gate of +the little garden in front of the place George +asked: “What story are we to tell?”</p> +<p>“The usual yarn, I suppose,” answered Watson. +“Fleming County, Kentucky—anxious to +join the Confederate forces—<i>et cetera</i>. Bah! +I loathe all this subterfuge and deceit. I wish I +were back fighting the enemy in the open +day!”</p> +<p>They walked boldly up to the door of the +house and knocked. The old gentleman whom +Watson had seen soon stood before them. The +lamp which he held above him shone upon a face +full of benignity and peacefulness. His features +were handsome; his eyes twinkled genially, as if +he loved all his fellow-men. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p> +<p>Watson told his Kentucky story, and asked +food and lodgings for George and himself until +the early morning.</p> +<p>“Come in,” said the old man, simply but +cordially, “any friend of the South is a friend of +mine.”</p> +<p>The minister (for he proved to be a country +preacher who rode from church to church “on +circuit”), ushered the two Northerners and the +dog into his cozy sitting-room and introduced +them to his wife and two daughters. The wife +seemed as kindly as her husband; the daughters +were pretty girls just growing into womanhood.</p> +<p>“Here, children,” said the old man, “get these +poor fellows some supper. They’re on a journey +to Atlanta, all the way from Kentucky, to enlist. +And I’ll see if I can’t rake you up a couple of +coats and some old shoes.”</p> +<p>He disappeared up-stairs, and soon returned +with two half-worn coats and two pairs of old +shoes, which he insisted upon presenting to the +fugitives.</p> +<p>“They belong to my son, who has gone to the +war,” he said, “but he’d be glad to have such +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +patriots as you use them. How did you both get +so bare of clothes?”</p> +<p>“We had to swim across a stream, and leave +some of our things behind,” explained Watson. +He spoke but the simple truth. He was glad +that he did, for he hated to deceive a man who +stood gazing upon him with such gentle, unsuspecting +eyes.</p> +<p>It was not long before Watson and George +had gone into the kitchen, where they found a +table laden with a profusion of plain but welcome +food. Waggie, who had been given some +milk, was lying fast asleep by the hearth.</p> +<p>George looked about him, when he had finished +his supper, and asked himself why he could not +have a week of such quiet, peaceful life as this? +Yet he knew that he was, figuratively, on the +brink of a precipice. At any moment he might +be shown in his true light. But how much better +he felt since he had eaten. He was comfortable +and drowsy. The minister and his family, +who had been bustling around attending to the +wants of their guests, began to grow dim in his +weary eyes. Watson, who was sitting opposite +to him, looked blurred, indistinct. He was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +vaguely conscious that the old gentleman was +saying: “These are times that try our souls.” +Then the boy sank back in his chair, sound +asleep. He began to dream. He was on the +cowcatcher of an engine. Andrews was tearing +along in front on a horse, beckoning to him to +come on. The engine sped on faster and faster, +but it could not catch up to the horseman. At +last Andrews and the horse faded away altogether; +and the boy was swimming across the +Chickamauga River. He heard a great shout +from the opposite bank—and awoke.</p> +<p>Watson had risen from the table; the pipe of +tobacco which the minister had given him as +a sort of dessert was lying broken on the +hearth. There was a despairing look on his face. +It was the look that one might expect to see in a +hunted animal at bay. Near him stood the old +man, who seemed to be the incarnation of mournful +perplexity, his wife, who was no less disturbed, +and the two daughters. One of the +latter, a girl with dark hair and snapping black +eyes, was regarding Watson with an expression +of anger. On the table was an opened +letter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span></p> +<p>“I am in your power,” Watson was saying to +the minister.</p> +<p>What had been happening during the half +hour which George had devoted to a nap?</p> +<p>“Poor, dear boy, he’s dropped off to sleep,” +murmured the minister’s wife, when she saw +George sink back in his chair. She went into +the sitting-room and returned with a cushion +which she proceeded to place under his head. +“He is much too young to go to the war,” she +said, turning towards Watson.</p> +<p>“There was no keeping him from going +South,” answered his companion. “He would +go.” Which was quite true.</p> +<p>The minister handed a pipe filled with Virginia +tobacco to Watson, and lighted one for +himself.</p> +<p>“It’s my only vice,” he laughed pleasantly.</p> +<p>“I can well believe you,” rejoined the Northerner, +as he gratefully glanced at the spiritual +countenance of his host. “Why should this old +gentleman and I be enemies?” he thought. “I +wish the war was over, and that North and South +were once more firm friends.” He proceeded to +light his pipe. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></p> +<p>They began to talk agreeably, and the minister +told several quaint stories of plantation life, +while they smoked on, and the women cleared +off the food from the table.</p> +<p>At last there came a knocking at the front +door. The host left the kitchen, went into the +hallway, and opened the door. He had a brief +parley with some one; then the door closed, and +he reentered the room. Watson thought he +could distinguish the sound of a horse’s hoofs as +an unseen person rode away.</p> +<p>“Who’s coming to see you this kind of +night?” asked the wife. It was a natural question. +It had once more begun to rain; there +were flashes of lightning and occasional rumbles +of thunder.</p> +<p>“A note of some kind from Farmer Jason,” +explained the clergyman. “I hope his daughter +is not sick again.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps the horse has the colic,” suggested +one of the girls, who had gentle blue eyes like +her father’s, “and he wants some of your +‘Equine Pills.’”</p> +<p>“Who brought the letter?” enquired the wife.</p> +<p>“Jason’s hired man—he said he hadn’t time to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +wait—had to be off with another letter to Farmer +Lovejoy—said this letter would explain everything.”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you open it, pa, instead of +standing there looking at the outside; you act +as if you were afraid of it,” spoke up the dark-eyed +girl, who was evidently a damsel of some +spirit.</p> +<p>“Here, you may read it yourself, Cynthia,” +said her father, quite meekly, as if he had committed +some grave offense. He handed the +envelope to the dark-eyed girl. She tore it +open, and glanced over the single sheet of paper +inside. Then she gave a sharp cry of surprise, +and darted a quick, penetrating glance at Watson. +He felt uneasy, although he could not explain +why he did.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked the minister. +“Anything wrong at the Jasons’?”</p> +<p>“Anything wrong at the Jasons’,” Miss Cynthia +repeated, contemptuously. “No; there’s +something wrong, but it isn’t over at Jasons’. +Listen to this!” She held out the paper at +arm’s length, as if she feared it, and read these +lines: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span></p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Pastor Buckley</span>,</p> +<p>“Dear Sir:</p> +<p>“This is to notify you as how I just have +had news that a party of Yankee spies is at +large, right in our neighborhood. They stole a +train to-day at Big Shanty, but they were obleeged +to jump off only a few miles from here. +So you must keep on the lookout—they are +around—leastwise a boy and grown man have +been seen, although most of the others seem to +have gotten away. One of my sons—Esau—caught +sight of this man and boy on the edge +of the river late this afternoon. He says the +boy had a dog.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style=' margin-right:5em;'>“Yours,</p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Charles Jason</span>.”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>After Miss Cynthia finished the reading of +this letter there was a silence in the room almost +tragic in its intensity. Watson sprang to his +feet, as he threw his pipe on the hearth. Waggie +woke up with a whine. The Reverend Mr. +Buckley looked at Watson, and then at the +sleeping boy in a dazed way—not angrily, but +simply like one who is grievously disappointed. +So, too, did Mrs. Buckley and her blue-eyed +daughter.</p> +<p>Finally Miss Cynthia broke the silence.</p> +<p>“So you are Northern spies, are you?” she +hissed. “And you come here telling us a story +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +about your being so fond of the South that you +must travel all the way from Kentucky to fight +for her.” She threw the letter on the supper-table, +while her eyes flashed.</p> +<p>Watson saw that the time of concealment +had passed. His identity was apparent; he was +in the very centre of the enemy’s country; his life +hung in the balance. He could not even defend +himself save by his hands, for the pistol which +he carried in his hip-pocket had been rendered +temporarily useless by his passage across the +river. Even if he had possessed a whole brace +of pistols, he would not have harmed one hair of +this kindly minister’s head.</p> +<p>“I <i>am</i> a Northerner,” said Watson, “and I <i>am</i> +one of the men who stole a train at Big Shanty +this morning. We got within a few miles of +Chattanooga, and then had to abandon our +engine, because we were trapped. We tried to +burn bridges, but we failed. We did no more +than any Southerners would have done in the +North under the same circumstances.”</p> +<p>It was at this point that George awoke. He +saw at once that something was wrong but he +prudently held his tongue, and listened. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p>“You are a spy,” reiterated Miss Cynthia, +“and you know what the punishment for that +must be—North or South!”</p> +<p>“Of course I know the punishment,” said +Watson, with deliberation. “A scaffold—and a +piece of rope.”</p> +<p>The minister shuddered. “They wouldn’t hang +the boy, would they?” asked his wife anxiously.</p> +<p>Mr. Buckley was about to answer, when Miss +Cynthia suddenly cried, “Listen!”</p> +<p>Her sharp ears had detected some noise outside +the house. She left the room, ran to the +front door, and was back again in a minute.</p> +<p>“Some of the neighbors are out with dogs +and lanterns, looking, I’m sure, for the spies,” she +announced excitedly, “and they are coming up +the lane!”</p> +<p>The first impulse of Watson was to seize +George, and run from the house. But he +realized, the next instant, how useless this would +be; he could even picture the boy being shot +down by an overwhelming force of pursuers.</p> +<p>“They are coming this way,” said Mr. Buckley, +almost mournfully, as the sound of voices +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +could now be plainly heard from the cozy +kitchen.</p> +<p>“We are in your hands,” said Watson, calmly. +He turned to the minister.</p> +<p>“You are fighting against my country, which +I love more dearly than life itself,” answered +Mr. Buckley. “I can have no sympathy for +you!” His face was very white; there was a +troubled look in his kindly eyes.</p> +<p>“But they will be hung, father!” cried the +blue-eyed daughter.</p> +<p>“I’m ashamed of you, Rachel,” said Miss +Cynthia. Mrs. Buckley said nothing. She +seemed to be struggling with a hundred conflicting +emotions. Waggie ran to her, as if he considered +her a friend, and put his forepaws on her +dress.</p> +<p>“Are you going to give us up?” asked +Watson.</p> +<p>“I am a loyal Southerner,” returned the +minister, very slowly, “and I know what my +duty is. Why should I shield you?”</p> +<p>Watson turned to George.</p> +<p>“It was bound to come,” he said. “It +might as well be to-night as to-morrow, or the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +next day.” The pursuers were almost at the +door.</p> +<p>“All right,” said George, pluckily.</p> +<p>“Father,” said Miss Cynthia, “the men are at +the door! Shall I let them in?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Buckley turned away her head, for there +were tears in her eyes.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_IN_GREATEST_PERIL' id='IX_IN_GREATEST_PERIL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>IN GREATEST PERIL</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Wait!” commanded the minister. There +was a new look, one of decision, upon his face. +“Heaven forgive me,” he said, “if I am not doing +right—but I cannot send a man to the gallows!”</p> +<p>He took a step towards the door leading to +the entry.</p> +<p>“Not a word, Cynthia,” he ordered. He +opened a large closet, filled with groceries and +preserving jars, quickly pushed George and Watson +into it, and closed the door.</p> +<p>“Now, Rachel,” he said, “let the men in.” +The girl departed. Within the space of a minute +nearly a dozen neighbors, all of them carrying +muskets, trooped into the kitchen. They +were sturdy planters, and they looked wet and +out of humor.</p> +<p>“Well, Dominie,” exclaimed one of them, +walking up to the fire and warming his hands, +“you can thank your stars you’re not out a mean +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +night like this. Have you heard about the big +engine steal?”</p> +<p>“Friend Jason has written me about it,” replied +Mr. Buckley.</p> +<p>“Why, it was the most daring thing I ever +heard tell on,” cried another of the party. “A +lot of Yankees actually seized Fuller’s train when +he was eating his breakfast at Big Shanty, and +ran it almost to Chattanooga. They had pluck, +that’s certain!”</p> +<p>“We’re not here to praise their pluck,” interrupted +another man. “We are here to find out +if any of ’em have been seen around your place. +We’ve been scouring the country for two hours, +but there’s no trace of any of ’em so far—not +even of the man with the boy and the dog, as +Jason’s son said he saw.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t Jason’s son tackle the fellows?” +asked a voice.</p> +<p>“Pooh,” said the man at the fireplace; “Jason’s +son ain’t no ’count. All he’s fit for is to +dance with the girls. It’s well our army doesn’t +depend on such milksops as him. He would run +away from a mosquito—and cry about it afterwards!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></p> +<p>“You haven’t seen any one suspicious about +here, have you, parson?” asked a farmer.</p> +<p>The minister hesitated. He had never told a +deliberate falsehood in his life. Was he to begin +now?</p> +<p>“Seen no suspicious characters?” echoed the +man at the fireplace. “No boy with a dog?”</p> +<p>The tongue of the good clergyman seemed to +cleave to the roof of his mouth. He could see +the eagle glance of Miss Cynthia fixed upon him. +Just then Waggie, who had been sniffing at the +closet door, returned to the fireplace.</p> +<p>“Why, since when have you started to keep +dogs, parson?” asked the last speaker.</p> +<p>The minister had an inspiration.</p> +<p>“That dog walked in here this evening,” he +said. “I believe him to be the dog of the boy +you speak of.” He spoke truth, but he had +evaded answering the leading question.</p> +<p>“Great George!” cried the man at the fireplace. +“Then some of the spies are in the neighborhood +yet!” There were shouts of assent +from his companions.</p> +<p>“When did the dog stray in?” was asked.</p> +<p>“More than an hour ago,” said Mr. Buckley. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span></p> +<p>“Come, let’s try another hunt!” called out a +young planter. The men were out of the house +the next minute, separating into groups of two +and three to scour the countryside. The lights +of their lanterns, which had shone out in the +rain like will-o’-the-wisps, grew dimmer and dimmer, +and finally disappeared.</p> +<p>As the front door closed the minister sat down +near the table, and buried his face in his hands.</p> +<p>“I wonder if I did wrong,” he said, almost to +himself. “But I could not take a life—and that +is what it would have been if I had given them up.”</p> +<p>“Pa, you’re too soft-hearted for this world,” +snapped Miss Cynthia.</p> +<p>Mrs. Buckley looked at her daughter reprovingly.</p> +<p>“Your father is a minister of the gospel,” she +said solemnly, “and he has shown that he can do +good even to his enemies.”</p> +<p>Mr. Buckley arose, and listened to the sound +of the retreating neighbors. Then he opened the +door of the closet. Watson and George jumped +out joyfully, half smothered though they were, +and began to overwhelm the old man with +thanks for their deliverance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>He drew himself up, however, and refused +their proffered hand shakes. There was a stern +look on his usually gentle face.</p> +<p>“I may have saved your necks,” he said, “because +I would sacrifice no human life voluntarily, +but I do not forget that you are enemies who +have entered the South to do us all the harm you +can.”</p> +<p>“Come,” said Watson, “it’s a mere difference +of opinion. I don’t care what happens, George +and I will never be anything else than your best +friends!”</p> +<p>“That is true,” cried George; “you can’t call +us enemies!”</p> +<p>The manner of the minister softened visibly; +even Miss Cynthia looked less aggressive than +before.</p> +<p>“Well, we won’t discuss politics,” answered +Mr. Buckley. “You have as much right to your +opinions as I have to mine. But I think I have +done all I could be expected to do for you. +Here, take this key, which unlocks the door of +my barn, and crawl up into the hayloft where +you can spend the night. If you are there, however, +when I come to feed the horse, at seven +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +o’clock to-morrow morning, I will not consider it +necessary to keep silent to my neighbors.”</p> +<p>“Never fear,” said Watson, in genial tones; +“we’ll be away by daylight. Good-bye, and +God bless you. You have done something to-night +that will earn our everlasting gratitude, +little as that means. Some day this wretched +war will be over—and then I hope to have the +honor of shaking you by the hand, and calling +you my friend.”</p> +<p>Watson and George were soon safely ensconced +for the night in the minister’s hayloft, with +Waggie slumbering peacefully on top of a mound +of straw.</p> +<p>“I think we are more comfortable than our +pursuers who are running around the country,” +said George. He was stretched out next to +Watson on the hay, and over him was an old +horse-blanket.</p> +<p>“Thanks to dear old Buckley,” answered Watson. +“He is a real Southerner—generous and +kind of heart. Ah, George, it’s a shame that the +Americans of one section can’t be friends with +the Americans of the other section.”</p> +<p>Then they went to sleep, and passed as dreamless +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +and refreshing a night as if there were no dangers +for the morrow. At the break of day they +were up again, and out of the barn, after leaving +the key in the door.</p> +<p>“I feel like a general who has no plan of campaign +whatever,” observed Watson, as he gazed +at the minister’s residence, in the uncanny morning +light, and saw that no one had as yet +arisen.</p> +<p>“I guess the campaign will have to develop +itself,” answered George. The night’s rest, and +the good supper before it, had made a new boy +of him. Twelve hours previously he had been +exhausted; now he felt in the mood to undergo +anything.</p> +<p>The two walked out of the garden, accompanied +by Waggie, and so on until they reached +an open field. Here they sat down, on the limb +of a dead and stricken tree, and discussed what +they were to do.</p> +<p>“We don’t know,” mused Watson, “whether +any of our party have been caught or not. But +one thing is as certain as sunrise. Just as soon +as the morning is well advanced the pursuers +will begin their work again, and they will have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +all the advantage—you and I all the disadvantage.”</p> +<p>“The men will be on horseback, too,” added +George, “while we will be on foot. We must +remember that.”</p> +<p>“Jove,” cried Watson, giving his knee a +vigorous slap. “I’ve got an idea.”</p> +<p>“Out with it,” said George.</p> +<p>“Listen,” went on his friend. “Here is the +situation. If we try to push to the westward, to +join Mitchell’s forces, in broad daylight, or even +at night, we are pretty sure to be captured if +we try to palm ourselves off as Kentucky Southerners. +If we hide in the woods, and keep away +from people, we will simply starve to death—and +that won’t be much of an improvement. +That Kentucky story won’t work now; it has +been used too much as it is. Therefore, if we +are to escape arrest, we must change our characters.”</p> +<p>“Change our characters?” repeated George, +in wonderment.</p> +<p>“Exactly. Suppose that we boldly move +through the country as two professional beggars, +and thus gradually edge our way to the westward, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +without appearing to do so. You can sing +negro songs, can’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes; and other songs, too.”</p> +<p>“That’s good. And Waggie has some tricks, +hasn’t he?”</p> +<p>“He can play dead dog—and say his prayers—and +howl when I sing—and do some other +tricks.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ve got the whole scheme in my +mind,” said Watson, with enthusiasm. “Let me +play a blind man, with you as my leader. I +think I can fix my eyes in the right way. We +can go from farm to farm, from house to house, +begging a meal, and you can sing, and put the +dog through his tricks. People are not apt to +ask the previous history of beggars—nor do I +think any one will be likely to connect us with +the train-robbers.”</p> +<p>George clapped his hands.</p> +<p>“That’s fine!” he said. There was a novelty +about the proposed plan that strongly appealed +to his spirit of adventure.</p> +<p>Watson’s face suddenly clouded.</p> +<p>“Come to think of it,” he observed, “the combination +of a man, a boy and a dog will be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +rather suspicious, even under our new disguise. +Remember Farmer Jason’s letter last night.”</p> +<p>“That’s all very well,” retorted George, who +had fallen in love with the beggar scheme, “but +if we get away from this particular neighborhood +the people won’t have heard anything about +a dog or a boy. They will only know that some +Northern spies are at large—and they won’t be +suspicious of a blind man and his friends.”</p> +<p>“I reckon you’re right,” said Watson, after a +little thought. “Let us get away from here, +before it grows lighter, and put the neighbors +behind us.”</p> +<p>The man and boy, and the telltale dog, jumped +to their feet.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, Mr. Buckley,” murmured Watson, +as he took a last look at the minister’s house, +“and heaven bless you for one of the best men +that ever lived!”</p> +<p>They were hurrying on the next moment, nor +did they stop until they had put six or seven +miles between themselves and the Buckley home. +The sun, directly away from which they had +been moving, was now shining brightly in the +heavens, as it looked down benevolently upon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +the well-soaked earth. They had now reached a +plantation of some two hundred acres or more, in +the centre of which was a low, long brick house +with a white portico in front. They quickly +passed from the roadway into the place, and +moved up an avenue of magnolia trees. When +they reached the portico a lazy looking negro +came shuffling out of the front door. He gazed, +in a supercilious fashion, at the two whites and +the dog.</p> +<p>“Wha’ foah you fellows gwine come heh +foah?” he demanded, in a rich, pleasant voice, +but with an unwelcome scowl upon his face.</p> +<p>“We just want a little breakfast,” answered +Watson. He was holding the boy’s arm, and +looked the picture of a blind mendicant.</p> +<p>The darky gave them a scornful glance. “Git +away from heh, yoh white trash,” he commanded. +“We doan want no beggars ’round +heh!”</p> +<p>Watson was about to flare up angrily, at the +impudent tone of this order, but when he thought +of the wretched appearance which he and George +presented he was not surprised at the coolness of +their reception. For not only were their clothes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +remarkable to look upon, but they were without +hats. Even Waggie seemed a bedraggled little +vagabond.</p> +<p>But George rose valiantly to the occasion. He +began to sing “Old Folks at Home,” in a clear +sweet voice, and, when he had finished, he gave +a spirited rendition of “Dixie.” When “Dixie” +was over he made a signal to Waggie, who +walked up and down the pathway on his hind +legs with a comical air of pride.</p> +<p>The expression of the pompous negro had +undergone a great change. His black face was +wreathed in smiles; his eyes glistened with delight; +his large white teeth shone in the morning +light like so many miniature tombstones.</p> +<p>“Ya! ya! ya!” he laughed. “Doan go +way. Ya! ya! Look at de dog! Ho! ho!”</p> +<p>He reentered the house, but was soon back on +the portico. With him came a handsome middle-aged +man, evidently the master of the house, and +a troop of children. They were seven in all, four +girls and three boys, and they ranged in ages all +the way from five to seventeen years.</p> +<p>No sooner did he see them than George began +another song—“Nicodemus, the Slave.” This +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +he followed by “Massa’s in the cold, cold ground.” +As he ended the second number the children +clapped their hands, and the master of the house +shouted “Bravo!” Then the boy proceeded to +put Waggie through his tricks. The dog rolled +over and lay flat on the ground, with his paws in +the air as if he were quite dead; then at a signal +from his master he sprang to his feet and began +to dance. He also performed many other clever +tricks that sent the children into an ecstasy of +delight. Watson nearly forgot his rôle of blind +man, more than once, in his desire to see the accomplishments +of the terrier. But he saved himself +just in time, and contrived to impart to +his usually keen eyes a dull, staring expression.</p> +<p>By the time Waggie had given his last trick +the young people had left the portico and were +crowding around him with many terms of endearment. +One of them, seizing the tiny animal +in her arms, ran with him into the house, where +he must have been given a most generous meal, +for he could eat nothing more for the next +twenty-four hours.</p> +<p>The handsome man came off the portico and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +looked at the two supposed beggars with an expression +of sympathy.</p> +<p>“You have a nice voice, my boy,” he said, +turning to George. “Can’t you make better use +of it than this? Why don’t you join the army, +and sing to the soldiers?”</p> +<p>George might have answered that he already +belonged to one army, and did not feel like +joining another, but he naturally thought he had +better not mention this. He evaded the question, +and asked if he and the “blind man” might +have some breakfast.</p> +<p>“That you can!” said the master, very cordially. +“Here, Pompey, take these fellows +around to the kitchen and tell Black Dinah to +give them a <i>good</i> meal. And when they are +through bring them into my study. I want the +boy to sing some more.”</p> +<p>The black man with the white teeth escorted +the strangers to the kitchen of the mansion, +where an ebony cook treated them to a typical +southern feast. It was well that Black Dinah +had no unusual powers of reasoning or perception, +for the beggars forgot, more than once, to +keep up their assumed rôles. Watson found no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +difficulty in eating, despite his supposed infirmity, +and George came within an inch of presenting a +Confederate bill to Madame Dinah. But he suddenly +reflected that paupers were not supposed +to “tip” servants, and he stuffed the money back +into his trousers pocket.</p> +<p>When they had finished Pompey escorted them +to the study of the master of the house. It was +a large room, filled with books and family portraits, +and in it were assembled the host (Mr. +Carter Peyton) and his children. The latter were +still engaged in petting Waggie, who began to +look a trifle bored. From the manner in which +they ruled the house it was plain that their +father was a widower. At the request of Mr. +Peyton, George sang his whole repertoire of +melodies, and the dog once more repeated his +tricks. Watson was given a seat in one corner of +the study. “It’s time we were off,” he thought.</p> +<p>As Waggie finished his performance Watson +rose, and stretched out his hand towards George.</p> +<p>“Let’s be going,” he said.</p> +<p>“All right,” answered George. He was about +to say good-bye, and lead his companion to the +door, when a turbaned negress entered the room. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p> +<p>“Massa Peyton, Massa Charles Jason done ride +oveh heh ta see you.”</p> +<p>“Is he here now?” asked Mr. Peyton. “Then +show him in. I wonder what’s the matter? It +is not often that Jason gets this far away from +home.” The girl retired.</p> +<p>Charles Jason! Where had the two Northerners +heard that name? Then it flashed upon them +almost at the same instant. Charles Jason was +the name of the farmer who had warned Mr. +Buckley about them. If he saw them both, and +in company with the dog, they would be under +suspicion at once.</p> +<p>George drew nearer to Watson and whispered +one word: “Danger!” He picked up Waggie +and put him in his pocket.</p> +<p>“We must be going,” reiterated Watson, +moving towards the door with unusual celerity +for a blind man who had found himself in an unfamiliar +apartment.</p> +<p>“Don’t go yet,” urged Mr. Peyton, seeking to +detain the supposed vagabonds; “I want Mr. +Jason to hear some of these plantation songs. +I’ll pay you well for your trouble, my boy—and +you can take away all the food you want.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span></p> +<p>“I’m sorry,” began George, “but——”</p> +<p>As the last word was uttered Farmer Charles +Jason was ushered into the study. He was a +chubby little man of fifty or fifty-five, with red +hair, red face and a body which suggested the +figure of a plump sparrow—a kindly man, no +doubt, in the ordinary course of events, but the +last person on earth that the two fugitives wanted +to see.</p> +<p>“Well, this <i>is</i> a surprise,” said the master of +the house, very cordially. “It’s not often you +favor us with a visit as far down the highway as +this.”</p> +<p>“When a fellow has gout as much as I have +nowadays,” returned Jason, “he doesn’t get away +from home a great deal. But something important +made me come out to-day.”</p> +<p>“Nothing wrong, I hope?” asked Mr. Peyton.</p> +<p>George took hold of Watson’s left hand, and +edged towards the open door. But Mr. Peyton, +not waiting for Jason to answer his question, +leaped forward and barred the way.</p> +<p>“You fellows must not go until Mr. Jason has +heard those negro melodies.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></p> +<p>Owing to the number of people in the room +(for all the children were there), Jason had not +singled out the Northerners for any attention. +But now he naturally looked at them. There +was nothing suspicious in his glance; it was +merely good-natured and patronizing.</p> +<p>“Yes, don’t go,” cried one of the children, a +pretty little girl of ten or eleven. “Show Mr. +Jason how the doggie can say his prayers.” She +hauled Waggie from George’s coat, and held him +in front of the farmer. George seized Waggie +and returned him to his pocket. There was an +angry flush on the boy’s face. He had no kind +feelings for pretty Miss Peyton.</p> +<p>Jason’s expression underwent a complete transformation +when he saw the dog. An idea seemed +to strike him with an unexpected but irresistible +force. The sight of the dog had changed the +whole current of his thoughts. He stared first +at Watson, and then at George, with a frown +that grew deeper and deeper. Then he turned +to Mr. Peyton.</p> +<p>“I came over to tell you about the Yankee +spies who are loose in the county,” he cried +quickly, in excited tones. “One of them was a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +boy with a dog. My son saw them—and I believe +this to be the lad. I——”</p> +<p>The farmer got no further.</p> +<p>“Come, George!” suddenly shouted Watson.</p> +<p>At the back of the study there was a large +glass door leading out to the rear porch of the +house. He ran to this, found that it would not +open, and so deliberately hit some of the panes a +great blow with his foot.</p> +<p>Crash! The glass flew here and there in a +hundred pieces. The next moment the ex-blind +man had pushed through the ragged edges of the +remaining glass, and was scurrying across a garden +at the back of the house. After him tore +George. In going through the door he had cut +his cheek on one of the projecting splinters, but +in the excitement he was quite unconscious of +the fact. The children and their father stood +looking at Jason in a dazed, enquiring way. +They had not heard of the locomotive chase; +they knew nothing of Northern spies; they did +not understand that the farmer had suddenly +jumped at a very correct but startling conclusion.</p> +<p>“After them!” shouted Jason. “They are +spies!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p> +<p>By this time the whole house was in an uproar. +Most of the children were in tears (being +frightened out of their wits at the mention of +terrible spies), and the servants were running to +and fro wringing their hands helplessly, without +understanding exactly what had happened. Jason +tore to the broken door, broke off some more +glass with the end of the riding whip he held in +his hand, and was quickly past this bristling barrier +and out on the back porch. Mr. Peyton +was behind him.</p> +<p>At the end of the garden, nearly a hundred +yards away, was an old-fashioned hedge of box, +which had reached, in the course of many years, +a height of twelve feet or more. A little distance +beyond this box was a wood of pine-trees. +As Jason reached the porch he could see the two +Northerners fairly squeeze their way through the +hedge, and disappear on the other side. He +leaped from the porch, and started to run down +the garden. But his enemy, the gout, gave him +a warning twinge, and he was quickly outdistanced +by Mr. Peyton, who sped onward, with +several negroes at his heels.</p> +<p>The party continued down the garden until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +they reached the hedge; then they ran to the +right for a short distance, scurried through an +arched opening in the green box, and thus +reached the outskirts of the pine woods. Next +they began to search through the trees. But +not a sight of the fugitives could they obtain. +After they had tramped over the whole woods, +which covered about forty acres, they emerged +into open fields. Not a trace of the runaways! +They went back and made a fresh search among +the pines; they sent negroes in every direction; +yet the result was the same. When Mr. Peyton +returned, very hot and disgusted, to his usually +quiet study he found Charles Jason lying on the +sofa in an agony of gout. Several of the children +were near him.</p> +<p>“Oh, papa, I hope you did <i>not</i> catch them,” +cried one of the latter. She was the little girl +who had pulled Waggie from George’s pocket.</p> +<p>Mr. Peyton laughed, in spite of himself.</p> +<p>“Have you fallen in love with the boy who +sang, Laura?” he asked, with a twinkle in his +eye.</p> +<p>“No,” said Miss Laura, indignantly, “but Mr. +Jason says they were spies—and spies are always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +hung—and I wouldn’t like to see that nice dog +hung.”</p> +<p>The father burst into a peal of merriment.</p> +<p>“Don’t worry,” he said; “I reckon the dog +would be pardoned—on the ground that he was +led astray by others older than himself. Anyway, +the rascals have gotten away as completely +as if they had disappeared from the face of the +earth.”</p> +<p>Jason groaned. Whether the sound was caused +by pain, or disappointment at the escape of the +spies, or both, it would have been hard to tell. +When he was taken to his home, not until the +next day, he vowed he would never more chase +anything, be it even a chicken.</p> +<p>And where were the missing man, boy, and +dog? Much nearer to the Peyton house than +any of its inmates fancied. When Watson and +George ran down the garden their only idea was +to get as far off from the house as possible, although +they believed that they were pretty sure +to be captured in the end. Their pistols were +still useless; they did not know the geography of +the neighborhood; there were enemies everywhere. +But after they squeezed through the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +hedge, they found in front of them, between the +box and the edge of the woods, a little patch of +muddy, uncultivated land, devoted to the refuse +of a farm. A trash heap, a broken plough, +empty boxes, barrels, broken china, and other +useless things betokened a sort of rustic junk-shop—a +receptacle for objects which had seen +their best days.</p> +<p>Among this collection, the quick eye of Watson +caught sight of a large molasses hogshead, +now empty and with its open end turned upwards. +He pulled George by the sleeve, pointed +to the hogshead, and then looked at the hedge, +as he said, breathlessly: “This is big enough to +hold us both; jump in—the hedge is so high they +can’t see us from the house!”</p> +<p>There was no chance to say more. In a twinkling +the two had vaulted into the huge barrel, +and were fairly squatting at the bottom. Above +them was the open sky and the warm sun. Any +pursuer who chose to stand on tiptoe and look in +would have been rewarded for his pains. But +Watson calculated that no one would think of +the hogshead for the very reason that it stood out +so prominently amid all the trash of this dumping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +ground. No one, in fact, gave a thought to +the spot; it suggested nothing in the way of a +hiding-place. Once a negro who had joined the +hunt brushed by the hogshead, much to the terror +of its occupants, but he gave it no heed. A +few minutes later Mr. Peyton stopped within a +few feet of it, to speak to his white overseer.</p> +<p>“We have searched the wood thoroughly,” +said the overseer, “but they are gone—that’s sure.”</p> +<p>“Well, they have gotten out of the place,” +observed the master. “But they won’t get many +miles away. I want you to take the sorrel mare +and spread the alarm through the neighborhood.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>Hardly had Mr. Peyton and his overseer +hurried away before Waggie indulged in a little +yelp, to ease his own feelings. He found things +rather cramped at the bottom of the hogshead, +to which he had been transferred from George’s +pocket; he longed to have more leeway for his +tiny legs.</p> +<p>“If you had given that bark a minute ago,” +muttered George, “you would have betrayed us, +Master Waggie.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p> +<p>“Oh! oh! oh!” whispered Watson; “I am +so cramped and stiff I don’t know what will become +of me. This is the most painful experience +of the war.”</p> +<p>There would have been something amusing in +the position of the hiders if it had seemed less +dangerous. Watson was now sitting with legs +crossed, in tailor fashion; on his lap was George; +and upon George’s knee jumped Waggie.</p> +<p>“You’re getting tired too soon,” said George. +“We will be here some time yet.”</p> +<p>He was quite right, for it was not until dusk +that they dared leave their curious refuge. +Sometimes they stood up, when they got absolutely +desperate, and had it not been that the tall +hedge protected him, the head of Watson would +assuredly have been seen from the Peyton mansion. +At last they cautiously abandoned the +hogshead, and crept into the pines in front of +them. When it was pitch dark the fugitives +pushed forward in a northwestwardly direction, +until they reached a log cabin, at a distance of +about four miles from their point of departure. +Within the place a light was cheerily burning. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<p>“Shall we knock at the door?” asked Watson, +in some doubt.</p> +<p>“I’m very hungry,” laughed George. “I think +I could risk knocking anywhere—if I could only +get something to eat.”</p> +<p>“Well, we might as well be hung for sheep as +lambs,” observed Watson. “Let us try it.”</p> +<p>He had begun to think that it was only the +question of a few hours before he and George +would be in the hands of the enemy.</p> +<p>They knocked at the door. It was half opened +by a long, lanky man, with a scraggy chin-beard, +who looked like the customary pictures of +“Uncle Sam.”</p> +<p>“What is it?” he asked the travelers. There +was a sound of voices within.</p> +<p>Was it prudent to play the blind man once +again? Or had this fellow heard of the excitement +at the Peyton mansion? Watson bethought +himself of a method of finding out +whether or not he should be endowed with +sight.</p> +<p>“Are we anywhere near Squire Peyton’s?” he +demanded.</p> +<p>“’Bout four miles off, or five miles by the road +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +along the creek,” said this Southern “Uncle +Sam.”</p> +<p>“Do you know if he’s living at his place +now?”</p> +<p>“He was there three days ago, whan I driv +over ta sell him some shotes,” returned “Uncle +Sam.” “Reckon he must be there still.”</p> +<p>“Humph!” thought Watson; “this fellow +hasn’t heard anything about the Peyton <i>fracas</i>. +I’ll lose my sight once again.”</p> +<p>He clutched George’s hand in a helpless fashion, +and poured forth a tale of woe. He was +blind and poor, he said; he and his nephew +(meaning George) were in need of food and +shelter.</p> +<p>“I’ll sing for you,” said George.</p> +<p>“Tarnation pumpkins,” cried Uncle Sam; “I +hate squalin’. But come in. I never shut my +door on anybody.”</p> +<p>He opened the door the whole way. The two +Northerners and the dog walked into the dazzling +light made by a great wood-fire—and confronted +five Confederate soldiers and an officer +who were toasting their feet at the hearth! +They all glanced at the newcomers, who dearly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +regretted, when too late, that they had entered. +The officer stared first at Watson and then at +George with the air of a man who is searching +for some one. Uncle Sam introduced them to +the party in a manner more vigorous than polite.</p> +<p>“Here’s a couple o’ beggars,” he said. “Ma, +get ’em somethin’ to eat!”</p> +<p>“Ma,” who was his wife, came bustling out of +the second room, or kitchen, of the cabin. She +was red in the face, and of generous proportions.</p> +<p>“Look here, pop,” she cried, “do you expect +me to cook for a hotel? I’ve just been feedin’ +these soldiers, and now you want me to get +victuals for beggars.”</p> +<p>When the plump hostess saw the blind man, +the boy and the dog, her face softened. She +went back to the kitchen, and soon returned +with some coarse but highly acceptable food, +which was gratefully eaten by George and Watson.</p> +<p>“Do you two tramp through the country together?” +asked the officer. He was addressed +by his men as Captain Harris. Every line and +feature of his clean-shaven face denoted shrewdness.</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Watson. “My nephew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +sings—the dog has some tricks—we make a little +money—even in war time.” He would put the +best face possible on this trying situation.</p> +<p>“You have no home?” went on the officer, in +a sympathetic voice.</p> +<p>“None.”</p> +<p>“Where did you come from before you took +to begging?”</p> +<p>Watson hesitated for a second. Then he said: +“Lynchburg, Virginia.” It was the only place +he could think of at that moment, and it seemed +far enough off to be safe.</p> +<p>“I spent three weeks in Lynchburg last year,” +said Captain Harris. “What part of the town +did you live in?”</p> +<p>This time George came to the rescue. “On +Main Street,” he answered. He had known a +boy in Cincinnati whose mother had once resided +in Lynchburg, and he had heard the lad speak of +a Main Street in that town.</p> +<p>“On Main Street,” repeated the Captain. +Was the look that passed quickly across his face +one of surprise or disappointment?</p> +<p>“Yes, on Main Street,” asserted George. He +felt very sure of himself now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></p> +<p>“How near were you to the Sorrel Horse +Hotel?” asked the Captain, after a brief +pause.</p> +<p>“About two streets away, eh George?” said +Watson. He had, very naturally, never heard +of the Sorrel Horse, and he knew nothing of +Lynchburg, but it would be fatal to show any +ignorance on the subject.</p> +<p>“Yes, just about two streets away,” agreed +the boy.</p> +<p>The men were all sitting near the blazing fire. +Suddenly Captain Harris, without saying a word, +lifted his right arm and sent his fist flying towards +the face of Watson, who sat near him. +With an exclamation of anger Watson jumped +to his feet, just in time to avoid the blow.</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” he cried, as he glared +at his antagonist.</p> +<p>The Captain smiled. He did not seem at all +pugnacious now.</p> +<p>“I mean,” he answered, “that I have proved +my suspicions to be true. I thought you were +not blind—and I find that you still have enough +sight left to see a blow when it is coming to +you!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span></p> +<p>Watson could cheerfully have whipped himself +for his blunder.</p> +<p>“Further,” went on the officer, in a politely +taunting tone that was very provoking, “I find +that neither you nor the boy ever lived in Lynchburg, +for the simple reason that there is no Sorrel +Horse Hotel in that place, and there never was!”</p> +<p>How nicely had he planned this little trap! +And how foolish the two fugitives felt.</p> +<p>“And now, my dear beggars,” went on the +Captain, in the same ironical vein, “allow me to +say that I don’t believe you are beggars at all. +I strongly suspect that you are members of this +engine-stealing expedition which has come to +grief. This afternoon I was sent out from +Chattanooga, among others, to scour the country, +and it will be my duty to march you there to-morrow +morning.”</p> +<p>There was a pause painful in its intensity.</p> +<p>“Have either of you got anything to say?” +demanded the Captain.</p> +<p>“We admit nothing!” said Watson.</p> +<p>“I’m not surprised,” answered the Captain. +“Your offense is a hanging one. But you were +a plucky lot—that’s certain.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_FINAL_TRIALS' id='X_FINAL_TRIALS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>FINAL TRIALS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The next morning Watson and George Knight, +with the faithful Waggie (who was destined to +remain with his master throughout all these adventures, +in which he had played his own little +part), were taken by the detachment of Confederates +to Chattanooga. Here they were +placed in the jail, and here also, in the course of +a few days, were brought Andrews and the +other members of the ill-fated expedition. For +they were all captured, sooner or later, as might +have been expected. The whole South rang +with the story of the engine chase, and every +effort was made to track and capture the courageous +Northerners.</p> +<p>After a stay of several weeks in Chattanooga +the party were taken by railroad to Madison, in +Georgia, for it was feared that General Mitchell +was about to take possession of the former place. +In a few days, however, when the danger had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +passed, they were returned to Chattanooga. It +was not until September of 1863 that this city +fell into the hands of a Union force.</p> +<p>Of the movements and separation of the +prisoners after their return to Chattanooga, or +of the experiences of some of them in Knoxville, +it is not necessary to make detailed mention. +Andrews, after a trial, was executed in Atlanta +as a spy, dying like a brave man, and seven of +his companions, condemned by a court-martial, +shared the same fate. It was the fortune of +war. George could never dance, as he had +promised, at his leader’s wedding.</p> +<p>Let us change the scene to the city prison of +Atlanta, where the remaining fourteen members +of the expedition were to be found in the following +October. Among them were Watson, +George Knight, Jenks and Macgreggor. Waggie, +too, was still in evidence, but he would have +found life rather dreary had not the kind-hearted +jailer allowed one of his family to take the dog +many a scamper around the city.</p> +<p>“Poor Andrews,” said Watson, one afternoon, +“it is hard to realize that he and seven others +of us have gone.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p> +<p>The party were occupying a well-barred room +on the second floor of the prison. This second +floor comprised four rooms for prisoners, two on +each side of a hallway. In the hallway was a +staircase which led to the first story, where the +jailer and his family had their quarters. Outside +the building was a yard surrounded by a +fence about nine feet high, and here and there a +soldier, fully armed, was on guard.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to be doleful, boys,” said Macgreggor, +“but I think we will soon follow +Andrews. As the days rolled on and we heard +no more of any trial or execution I began to +hope that the Confederate Government had forgotten +the rest of us. I even thought it possible +we might be exchanged for the same number of +Confederates in Northern prisons, and thus allowed +to go back to our army. But I’ve kept +my eyes and ears open—and I have now become +anxious.”</p> +<p>“Why so?” asked George. The boy looked +thin and very pale, after his long confinement.</p> +<p>“I heard some one—I think it was the Provost-Marshal—talking +to the jailer this morning, at +the front door of the prison. I was looking out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +of the window; you fellows were all playing +games. ‘Keep a very strict eye on those engine-stealers,’ +the marshal said; ‘a court is going to +try them—and you know what that means—death! +A trial will be nothing more than a +formality, for the whole fourteen of them are +spies, under the rules of war. They were soldiers +who entered the enemy’s line in civilian disguise. +So don’t let them get away.’”</p> +<p>Macgreggor’s listeners stirred uneasily. This +was not what might be called pleasant news.</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell us before?” asked +Jenks.</p> +<p>“I hadn’t the heart to,” returned Macgreggor. +“You boys were all so cheerful.”</p> +<p>Watson cleared his voice.</p> +<p>“I tell you what it is, boys,” he whispered, as +he gave Waggie a mournful pat; “if we don’t +want to be buried in an Atlanta graveyard we +must escape!”</p> +<p>George’s white face flushed at the thought. +The idea of liberty was dazzling, after so many +weary days.</p> +<p>“Well,” said one of the men, in the same low +tone, “it’s better to escape, and run the risk of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +failing or of being re-captured, than to rot here +until we are led out to be hanged.”</p> +<p>“Let’s invent a plan that will enable us not +only to get out, but to <i>stay</i> out,” laughed Jenks.</p> +<p>There was dead silence for nearly ten minutes. +The men, who had been sitting on the floor +watching two of their number at a game of +checkers, were deep in thought. At last Watson +opened his lips.</p> +<p>“I have a plan,” he whispered. “Tell me +what you think of it. You know that about +sunset the darkies come into the rooms to leave +us our supper. The jailer stands outside. Then, +later, the jailer comes and takes away the dishes. +He is then alone. Suppose we seize him, gag +him, take his keys, unlock all the doors on this +floor, and release all the prisoners. As you know, +there are a number besides our own party—whites +and negroes. All this must be quietly +done, however, if it is to prove successful. Then +we can go down-stairs, without making any +noise, overpower the seven sentinels, take their +guns, and make off, after locking up these gentlemen.”</p> +<p>Watson went further into details, to show the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +probable workings of his scheme. It was finally +agreed that the dash was well worth the trial. +As Jenks remarked: “It’s either that or a few +feet of cold rope, and a coffin!”</p> +<p>The late afternoon of the next day was fixed +upon for the escape. In addition to the fourteen +remaining adventurers, a Union captain from +East Tennessee, who shared the room with them, +was to be associated in this daring enterprise. It +seemed to George as if the hour would never +come; but as the sun began to sink gradually +towards the horizon on the following afternoon +he realized, from the feverish restlessness of the +whole party, that there was not much longer to +wait.</p> +<p>“Keep up your nerve, fellows,” said Watson, +who had become the leader of the party, “and +remember that all depends upon the quietness +with which we conduct things on this floor, so +that the guard below won’t take the alarm.”</p> +<p>As he spoke there was a rattling of keys and a +creaking of locks. The heavy door of the room +opened, and in walked Waggie. He had been +having a walk, with a daughter of the jailer, and +one of the negro servants had taken him up-stairs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +and unlocked the door. The next moment the +key was turned; the prisoners were again shut +in from the world.</p> +<p>“Poor little Waggie,” said Macgreggor. “Is +he going too?”</p> +<p>“I’ve taken him through too much to leave +him behind now,” said George fondly. “Look. +This is as good as a kennel.” He pointed to an +overcoat, which the East Tennessee Captain had +given him, and showed on one side a large +pocket. The side of the latter was buttoned up +closely to the coat.</p> +<p>The minutes dragged along. Finally Watson +said, with a sort of mournful impressiveness: +“Boys, let us all bid each other good-bye. For +some of us may never meet again!”</p> +<p>The men clasped one another by the hand. In +the eyes of most of them were tears—not timid +tears, but the tears of soldiers who had become +attached to one another through suffering and +hoping together. It was a solemn scene which +the rays of the dying sun illumined, and George +would never forget it.</p> +<p>Watson brushed a drop from his cheek.</p> +<p>“I feel better, now,” he said cheerfully; “I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +ready for anything. Remember one thing. +Treat the jailer as gently as possible. He has +been a kind fellow where some would have been +the reverse.”</p> +<p>“Aye,” murmured his companions. It was an +order which had their hearty sympathy.</p> +<p>In a little while there was the long-expected +creaking at the door. It was supper time! Two +negroes entered and placed some pans containing +food upon the table. Then they retired, and the +door was locked.</p> +<p>“Eat, boys,” whispered Watson; “we don’t +know when we may get our next square +meal.”</p> +<p>The men soon disposed of the food. Hardly +had they finished before the door was thrown +open, and the jailer, an elderly, bearded man, +appeared.</p> +<p>“Good-evening, men,” he said, in a pleasant, +unsuspicious voice. He halted at the doorway +with the keys in his right hand.</p> +<p>It was a terrible moment. George felt as if he +were living ten years in that one instant.</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a> +<img src='images/illus4.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 281px; height: 428px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 281px;'> +<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Watson Placed His Hand Over the Man’s Mouth</span><br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span></div> +<p>“Good-evening, sir,” said Watson, approaching +the jailer. “It’s such a very pleasant evening +that we intend to take a little walk.” He +threw back the door as he spoke.</p> +<p>The jailer was unprepared for this move. He +did not even divine what was intended.</p> +<p>“How—what do you mean——” he faltered.</p> +<p>“We’ve had enough of prison life,” said Macgreggor, +in a calm, even voice, “and we are going +to leave you. Now give up the keys, and keep +very quiet, or you’ll find——”</p> +<p>“Keep off!” cried the jailer, as he tightened +his hold on the bunch of keys. He was about to +call for help, but Watson placed his left hand +over the man’s mouth, and with his right +clutched the unfortunate’s throat. Then Macgreggor +seized the keys, after a sharp but decisive +struggle, and hurried into the hallway, +where he began to release the general prisoners. +He quickly unlocked in succession the doors of +the three other rooms on the second floor. The +men thus freed did not understand the significance +of it all, but they saw unexpected liberty +staring them in the face, and they ran out of +their quarters like so many sheep.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the members of the engine expedition, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +with the exception of Watson and Macgreggor, +had run almost noiselessly down the +staircase, through the jailer’s quarters on the +first floor, and thus out into the prison yard. +Some of them threw themselves upon the three +soldiers in the rear of the yard, wrenched from +them their muskets, crying out at the same time: +“Make a movement or a cry and we’ll shoot you +down!” The rest of the party, among whom +were George Knight and Jenks, tore into the +front part of the yard, where four guards were +patroling near the main door of the jail. Two +of these guards were quickly disarmed. But the +other two, seeing the oncoming of the prisoners, +ran out of the gate of the picket fence, uttering +loud cries as they went. Their escape was entirely +unexpected.</p> +<p>The general prisoners now came tumbling into +the yard, headed by Watson and Macgreggor. +Watson, warned that there was no time to lose, +had released his hold upon the astonished jailer. +He did not know that two of the sentinels had +escaped, but he arrived down-stairs just in time +to see the result of their disappearance. A large +reserve guard of Confederates, warned of the jail +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +delivery by these two soldiers, came rushing +madly into the yard.</p> +<p>“Look out, boys!” cried Watson. Other +members of the engine party, seeing the arrival +of the troops, released the five remaining sentinels, +threw down their newly acquired muskets, +and began to scale the prison fence. There came +the sharp crack of rifles from the reserve guard. +Whiz! The bullets rattled all around the heads +of the fence-climbers, the whistling noise having +for accompaniment the cries of the angry Confederates. +Whiz! Another volley! Yet no one +was hit. On the fugitives went, as they descended +on the other side of the fence, and made +for some woods at a distance of nearly a mile +from the prison.</p> +<p>“After ’em, men,” came the word of command +to the Confederates. Soldiers were running +hither and thither, while the general prisoners, +who had been released by Macgreggor, were soon +safely housed in their old rooms. The bullets +were flying thick and fast within and without +the prison yard; the scene was one of pandemonium. +Ere long five of the engine party had been +captured, three inside of the yard and two immediately +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +outside. Among these were Jenks and +Macgreggor who were both uninjured, but both +very much disheartened. Soon there was the +clatter of hoofs, and a troop of cavalry dashed +up to the front of the jail.</p> +<p>“No more chance of escape!” said Jenks bitterly, +as he looked out of the barred window. +He could hear the cavalry colonel excitedly +crying: “Hunt down the fellows till you have +every one of them!”</p> +<p>“I hope some of the boys will get off,” remarked +Macgreggor. “Any one who is captured +is sure to be hung now.” Afterwards another +prisoner was captured. There were now six of +the party back in jail.</p> +<p>Where were Watson and George during this +escapade? No sooner had the former cried out +his warning, on the approach of the reserve +guard, than he made directly for George, who +was in the back part of the yard.</p> +<p>“Come on,” he said, in tones of suppressed excitement, +“over the fence with us. It’s our only +chance—now!”</p> +<p>Imitating the example of others the man and +boy were soon balanced on top of the wooden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +fence. Whirr! George was conscious of a +whistling sound, and a bullet flew by him as it +just grazed the tip of one ear.</p> +<p>“Hurry up!” urged Watson. In another +second the two had dropped from the fence and +were running like mad over a large field.</p> +<p>“Halt!” cried some voices behind them. +Looking back they could see that about a dozen +soldiers were in hot pursuit. A ball sped by +George, dangerously near the capacious pocket +in which Waggie was ensconced; a second bullet +would have ended the life of Watson had it come +an inch nearer the crown of his head.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said Watson. “These men are +fresh—we are weakened by imprisonment—they +will get up to us in the end. Let’s try a trick. +The next time the bullets come we’ll drop as if +we were dead.”</p> +<p>At that moment another volley rattled around +and over them. Watson threw up his arms, as +if in agony, and sank on the grass. George +uttered a loud cry, and went down within a few +feet of his companion.</p> +<p>All but one of the Confederates halted, upon +seeing the apparent success of their aim, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +turned to pursue in a new direction. The remaining +soldier came running up to the two +prisoners, and after taking one look which convinced +him that they were either dead or dying +he scurried back to rejoin his detachment. There +was no use in wasting time over corpses when +living enemies remained to be caught.</p> +<p>The “corpses” waited until all was quiet +around them. Then they arose, and kept on +towards the woods. These they reached when +darkness had fallen upon the trees—a circumstance +which aided them in one way, as it lessened +the danger of pursuit. But in another way +the night impeded their progress for they could +not get their bearings. They groped from tree +to tree, and from bush to bush, like blind men. +Once they heard a great rustling, and were convinced +that it was caused by some of their companions, +but they dared not speak, for fear of a +mistake. At last they stumbled out upon a deserted +highroad.</p> +<p>“Where are we?” whispered George.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” returned Watson. “Hark! +Do you hear anything?”</p> +<p>A sound, at first very faint, became more and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +more distinct as they listened. Galloping +horsemen and the rattle of sabres proclaimed the +approach of cavalry.</p> +<p>“Back into the woods,” urged Watson. “We +may be putting ourselves in a trap—but for the +life of me I don’t know where else to +go!”</p> +<p>They hurried into the wood, where they +crawled under a scrubby pine bush, and anxiously +awaited the outcome. On rushed the horsemen +until they reached the outskirts of the wood. +Here they halted. The hiders under the pine +bush could hear one of the officers say: “The +infantry will soon be here to relieve us.”</p> +<p>“We’ve had a great time to-night,” growled +another officer. “These Yankees, not content +with troubling us on the battle-field, must even +stir things up when they are prisoners.”</p> +<p>“I don’t wonder those locomotive-stealers +wanted to escape,” laughed the first officer. +“They know what the punishment of a spy +always is.”</p> +<p>In a few minutes a company of infantry +marched to the scene. After a short conference +between their officers and those of the cavalry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +the horsemen galloped away. The infantry were +now formed into squads, and sent to keep guard +in the woods.</p> +<p>“Things are getting rather warm!” whispered +Watson. George murmured an assent. Well +might he do so, for a sentry had soon been +posted within fifty feet of the two fugitives. +The situation was fraught with the greatest +danger. Watson and George realized that the +soldiers would patrol the woods until morning, +when discovery would be inevitable.</p> +<p>Watson sank his voice so low that it could just +be heard by his companion.</p> +<p>“We can’t afford to stay here until daylight,” +he whispered. “We must wriggle out of here +until we come to the edge of the road. Then we +must make a break and run.”</p> +<p>“Run where?” asked George.</p> +<p>“Providence alone knows,” answered Watson. +“We must trust to chance. But anything is +better than remaining here, to be caught like +rabbits by dogs.”</p> +<p>“I’m ready,” replied George. He already +saw himself back in the Atlanta prison, and he +even pictured himself with a rope around his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +neck; but he was prepared for any adventure, +whatever might be the result.</p> +<p>“The sooner the better,” whispered Watson. +Without any more words the two began to +wriggle along the ground and kept up this snake-like +motion until they reached the edge of the +wood. It was slow work and very tiresome, but +it was their one chance of escape. Then they +stood up, and bounded across the highroad.</p> +<p>“There they go!” shouted one of the soldiers +in the wood. At once there was an uproar, as +the sentries ran out into the road, and began to +fire their guns in wild confusion. It was pitch +dark, and they could see nothing. Over the road +and into an open field tore the two fugitives. +They felt like blind men, for they could hardly +distinguish any object before them; moreover +they were wholly ignorant of their surroundings. +They ran on, however, and finally reached another +field in which were several large trees. +Watson made straight for one of them.</p> +<p>“Up we go,” he said, and, suiting the action to +the order, he had soon clambered up the tree, +and seated himself across one of its branches. +George was quick to follow; he climbed up with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +even more celerity than Watson, and settled himself +on a neighboring branch.</p> +<p>They could hear the cries of the sentries, +mingled with an occasional shot. Two of the +soldiers passed directly under the tree occupied +by the Northerners.</p> +<p>“They have gotten off,” one of them was saying.</p> +<p>“I’m not surprised,” rejoined the other sentry. +“Any fellows who could do what they did at +Big Shanty are not easy customers to deal +with.”</p> +<p>In a little while the two sentries returned, +and, again passing under the tree, evidently +went back to the woods. The uproar had +ceased; there was no more firing; it was plain +that the chase had been abandoned.</p> +<p>After the lapse of half an hour Watson and +George descended from their uncomfortable +perches. Once upon the ground the boy released +Waggie from his pocket, and the little +party pushed on in the darkness for about a mile. +Here they found a hayrick in a field, alongside of +which they laid their weary bones and slept the +sleep of exhaustion. When daylight came they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +had awakened, feeling much refreshed and ready +for more adventures.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you what I think,” said Watson. +“There’s a chance for us yet, provided we try a +new means of getting away from the South.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” asked George.</p> +<p>“If we try to move northward,” continued +Watson, “we are sure to be caught. Every +countryman between Atlanta and Chattanooga +will be on the lookout for us. Instead of that, +let us strike out towards the Gulf of Mexico, +where we should reach one of the ships of the +Union blockading squadron. New Orleans is in +the hands of the North, and many of our vessels +must be patroling the Gulf. Once we reach the +coast we are practically free.”</p> +<p>“The very thing!” cried the boy. “You’re a +genius!”</p> +<p>Watson smiled.</p> +<p>“Not a genius,” he said, “but I have what +they call horse-sense up our way—and I’m not +anxious to return to the delights of the Atlanta +prison.”</p> +<p>Acting upon this new theory the wanderers +began their long journey. This they pursued +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span> +amid many hardships, not the least of which +was hunger. Even poor Waggie grew emaciated. +First they reached the banks of the +Chattahoochee River, after which they secured +a boat and rowed their way down via the +Apalachicola River, to Apalachicola, Florida, on +the Gulf of Mexico. Here they found, to their +great delight, that a Federal blockading squadron +was patroling on the Gulf, near the mouth of +Apalachicola Bay.</p> +<p>The two fugitives now pushed their little boat +out into the open sea. They were a sorry looking +couple, with their old clothes fairly dropping +from them, and their thin, gaunt figures showing +the consequences of many days of privation. +Watson was feverish, with an unnatural glitter +in his eyes, while George’s face was a sickly +white. Waggie reposed at the bottom of the +rickety craft, as if he cared not whether he lived +or died.</p> +<p>“Look!” cried Watson, who was at the oars. +He pointed out towards the south, where were to +be seen a collection of masts and smoke-stacks, +rising above long black hulls.</p> +<p>“It’s the Federal fleet,” said George. He was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +glad to have a look at it—glad to know that +deliverance was at hand—but he felt too exhausted +to put any enthusiasm into his voice.</p> +<p>“Can you see any flag?” he asked, wearily. +“Perhaps we have been fooled after all. The +ships may belong to the Confederate navy.”</p> +<p>Soon they could detect, as they drew nearer, a +flutter of bunting from the vessel nearest to +them.</p> +<p>“It’s the old flag!” cried George, jumping +from his seat in the stern with a precipitancy +that threatened to upset the boat. “See the blue—and +the red and white stripes! Hurrah!” +But he was too weak for much enthusiasm even +now and he soon had to sit down once more.</p> +<p>Watson uttered a cry which was meant to be +triumphant, although it came like a hoarse croak +from his parched throat. Then the tears gushed +into his eyes as he gazed again upon the flag. It +almost seemed as if he were home again.</p> +<p>Nearer and nearer they rowed to the squadron. +There were four ships of war, and now they +could see the sailors walking the decks and the +guns in the portholes.</p> +<p>“We’ll be there in ten minutes now,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +Watson, “and I think I can eat a——” He +gasped and failed to finish the sentence. He +half rose from his seat, relinquished the oars, +with a despairing cry, and then, losing all consciousness, +pitched over the gunwale into the +sunlit waters of the Gulf.</p> +<p>George jumped up from the stern and stretched +out his arm to seize the inanimate body of his +friend. But the movement was too much for the +equilibrium of the frail boat and for the balance +of the boy. Out into the water shot George, +overturning the craft until its keel was in the air.</p> +<p>George struck out for Watson and succeeded +in grabbing him by the hair of his head just as +he was about to disappear beneath the waves. +Then he changed his hold upon the man, and +with his left hand clutching the neck of Watson’s +coat he pulled to the side of the upturned boat. +To this he held with his right hand like grim +death, as he put his left arm around Watson’s +waist. The boy was panting for breath, and as +weak as if he had been swimming for miles. +Not until now had he thoroughly realized how +hunger, exposure and privation had done their +work. The next instant he felt a gentle paddling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +near him; he looked down and there was +Waggie’s wet but plucky little face.</p> +<p>“Hello! old boy,” said George. “I would +rather drown myself than see you go under. So +here goes!”</p> +<p>He released his hold of Watson and by a quick +movement swung Waggie to the upturned bottom +of the boat, near the keel. The tiny animal +gave a bark that said “Thank you,” as plainly +as if he had spelled out every letter of the two +words. George again seized Watson and clung +to the boat more tightly than before. The +soldier gradually came back to consciousness.</p> +<p>“What have I done?” he asked, staring +wildly at the hot sun above him.</p> +<p>“Nothing!” answered George. “Only try to +hold on to the boat. For I’m so worn out that +it’s all I can do to keep myself up.”</p> +<p>Watson clawed frantically at the gunwale. +At last he managed to grasp it with his tired, +bony fingers.</p> +<p>“I can’t hold on much longer!” suddenly said +George, in a faint voice. His hands were numb; +he felt as if he had not one particle of strength +left in his emaciated body. His mind began to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +wander. He forgot that he was in the Gulf of +Mexico; he thought he was holding on to a +horse. By and by the horse began to move. +Could he keep his grasp on the animal? No; +not much longer. The horse started to canter, +and the boy felt himself slipping backward. In +reality he had let go his hold upon the boat. So, +too, had Watson. The next moment was a +blank. The sun came burning down on poor +Waggie, perched on top of the craft, as he +growled piteously at the sight of master and +friend drifting helplessly away.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>When George recovered his senses he was lying +on the deck of one of the war-vessels, and +Waggie was barking in an effort to awaken him. +Near him sat Watson, with a happy smile on his +wan face. Around him was a group of officers.</p> +<p>“By Jove,” one of the latter was saying. +“Those poor fellows had a narrow escape. It +was well we saw their plight and sent a boat +after them. It got there just in time.”</p> +<p>“Well, my boys,” asked an older officer (who +was evidently the captain of the vessel), in a +gruff but not unkindly tone, “what on earth <i>are</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +you, and where did you come from? You +don’t appear to have been gorging yourselves +lately.”</p> +<p>When George and Watson were a little +stronger they told the story of their adventures, +in brief but graphic terms, to the interested +group of officers. When they had finished the +Captain came up to them, and put a hand upon +the shoulder of each.</p> +<p>“You fellows want a good round meal!” he +said emphatically. “And after that some +clothes will not come amiss, I guess.”</p> +<p>To this they readily assented. How delicious +the food tasted when it was served to them at +the officers’ mess; and how comfortable but +strange they felt when, an hour later, they +were arrayed in all the glory of clean underclothes, +shoes, nice suits and naval caps. When +they came on deck again, how the sailors did +cheer. And Waggie! How fine and cheerful he +looked, to be sure, all decked out in ribbons provided +by the tars; and how pleased he felt with +the whole world since he had eaten—but it would +take too long to detail the <i>menu</i> with which the +dog had been regaled. The wonder was that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +survived the spoiling that he received during the +next four days.</p> +<p>At the end of that time he accompanied his +master and Watson, who were sent on a government +vessel to New York. From New York +they traveled by rail to Washington, where they +were to relate their experiences, and the result of +the railroad chase, to President Lincoln.</p> +<p>First they saw Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of +War, who made them dine and spend the night +as his guests, and who the next morning took +them to the White House. George trembled +when he was ushered into the private office of +Mr. Lincoln. He felt nervous at the thought of +encountering the man who, more than any one +else, held in his hand the destiny of the nation. +But, when a tall, gaunt person, with wonderful, +thoughtful eyes and a homely face, illumined by +a melancholy but attractive smile, walked up to +him and asked: “Is this George Knight?” all +the boy’s timidity vanished. As he answered, +“Yes, I am George Knight,” he felt as if he had +known the President for years.</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln listened to the narrative of the +two fugitives—now fugitives no longer—and put +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +to them many questions. When the recital was +over the President asked: “Do you know that +poor General Mitchell has died from yellow +fever?”</p> +<p>They answered in the affirmative, for Mr. +Stanton had given them this unwelcome information +upon their arrival in Washington.</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln pulled a paper from one of the +pockets of his ill-fitting black coat and handed it +to Watson.</p> +<p>“Here is a commission for you as a Captain in +the regular army,” he explained. “I know of +no one who could deserve it more than Captain +Watson.”</p> +<p>“How can I ever thank you, Mr. President?” +cried Watson.</p> +<p>“The thanks are all on my side,” answered the +President, smiling. “That reminds me of a little +story. When——”</p> +<p>Mr. Stanton, who was standing immediately +behind his chief, began to cough in a curious, +unnatural way.</p> +<p>A gleam of humor came into the unfathomable +eyes of the President.</p> +<p>“Mr. Stanton never appreciates my stories,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +he said, quizzically, “and when he coughs that +way I know what he means.” Then, turning to +George, he continued: “My lad, you are one of +the heroes of the war! I had intended giving +you, too, a commission, but I find you are too +young. But I suppose you want to see more of +the war?”</p> +<p>“Indeed I do, Mr. Lincoln!” cried George.</p> +<p>“Well, since poor Mitchell is dead, how would +you like to go as a volunteer aid on the staff of +one of our generals?”</p> +<p>“The very thing!” said the boy, with +ardor.</p> +<p>Mr. Lincoln faced his Secretary of War.</p> +<p>“You don’t always let me have my own way, +Mr. Secretary,” he observed, dryly, “but I think +you must oblige me in this.”</p> +<p>“The boy’s pretty young,” answered the Secretary, +“but I fancy it can be arranged.”</p> +<p>“Very good,” said the President. “And now, +George, if you behave with half the pluck in the +future that you have shown in the past, I’ll have +no fear for you. Do your duty, and some day +you may live to see—as I may not live to see—a +perfect reunion between North and South; for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +God surely does not intend that one great people +shall divide into two separate nations.”</p> +<p>George left the White House in a perfect glow +of enthusiasm. The very next day he was ordered +to join the staff of General George H. +Thomas, and he joyfully obeyed the summons to +leave Washington. His only regret was in parting +from Waggie, whom he was obliged to entrust +to the care of a friend of Secretary Stanton’s. +The boy saw plenty of army life throughout +the rest of the war. When the conflict was +over he hurried back to Washington, found +Waggie alive and well, and then went home with +him to Cincinnati. Here he had a startling but +delightful reunion with his father, whose mysterious +disappearance had been due to his capture by +the Confederates, and an incarceration for many +months in an out-of-the-way Southern prison.</p> +<p>There were many things of interest which +George did not learn until after the last gun of +the war had been fired. One was that Watson +had made a brilliant record for himself as a regular +army officer, and had come out of the war +with a sound skin and the rank of Colonel. +Another piece of news concerned the fortunes of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +the soldiers who escaped from the Atlanta jail. +Eight of the engine party and the East Tennessee +Captain (this number including Watson and +George), managed to escape, and finally reached +the Northern lines in safety. The six prisoners +who were recaptured, among them Macgreggor +and Jenks, escaped hanging, and were exchanged +for the same number of Southern prisoners. +Jenks was killed at the battle of Gettysburg; +Macgreggor served through the war, was honorably +discharged as a Major of Volunteers, and +finally developed into a successful physician in +the growing city of Chicago.</p> +<p>Waggie has been gathered to his canine forefathers +these many years. But it is comforting +to reflect that he lived to a fine old age, and died +full of honors. He was known far and wide as +the “Civil War Dog”—a title which caused him +to receive much attention, and a good many +dainty bits of food in addition to his regular +meals. Let it be added, however, that his digestion +and his bright disposition remained unimpaired +until the end.</p> +<p>George Knight is now a prosperous merchant, +happily married, and living in St. Louis. He is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +proud in the possession of a son who saw active +service in the Spanish-American War as an officer +in the navy. Before we say good-bye to our hero +let us record that he never forgot the kindness +of the Rev. Mr. Buckley, who had saved his life +as a boy. Many a Christmas-time gift testified +to the gratitude of the Northerner.</p> +<p>In the desk in George Knight’s office is a bundle +of letters from the old clergyman. The last of +these to be received reads as follows:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Friend George</span>:</p> +<p>“This is Christmas Day—the last, I am +sure, that I will ever see. I am too feeble to +write you more than my best wishes for the holiday +season, and to say—Thank God, the war has +been over these twenty years and we are once +more a united nation. No North, no South, no +East, no West—but simply America. I have +been spared to see this—and I am grateful.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style=' margin-right:5em;'>“Cordially yours,</p> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Amos Buckley</span>.”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' margin-top:2em;'>THE END</p> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.27 --> +<!-- timestamp: Sun Oct 12 06:54:56 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Chasing an Iron Horse, by Edward Robins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHASING AN IRON HORSE *** + +***** This file should be named 26892-h.htm or 26892-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/8/9/26892/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Juliet Sutherland and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> |