Part 10 (2/2)

”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!”

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, 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.

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.

”What's the matter, Brown?” he shouted to the engineer.

”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.

Andrews called back to them that there would only be a short delay.

”It's only the fire that's out,” he added; ”and I'm thankful it is nothing worse. When I saw the train slowing up I was afraid some of the machinery had broken.” No one understood 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.

George worked with a will in a.s.sisting the men in the cab to convey wood from the tender into the engine furnace. In three minutes ”The General”

had resumed its way.

”I wonder,” thought George, as the train twisted around a curve and then sped across a narrow embankment, ”if any attempt will be made to follow us.” But the very idea of such pursuit seemed absurd.

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.”

”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 s.p.a.ce.

”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.

”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?”

”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?”

”Never had a tree beat me yet,” said the lad.

”Then try your skill at that pole yonder, and see if you can get to the top of it.”

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 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.

”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, pa.s.sed up across the wire, and so down again. To the end which he held Andrews tied a good-sized axe.

”Do you see what I want?” he asked the boy, who was resting himself on the cross-bar supporting the wire.

George needed no prompting. The cord was eight or nine feet away from him; to reach it he must move out on the telegraph wire, hand over hand, 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!

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.

”I'll do it yet,” he maintained pluckily, running back to the telegraph pole.

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