Part 17 (2/2)

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 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.

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.

”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 st.u.r.dy right arm to a boy 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.

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.

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 second now might their weapons be needed in a fight at close quarters.

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.

”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.

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 railroad about thirteen miles from Chattanooga was reached.

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.

”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 Mitch.e.l.l's lines as best we can, each in his own way!”

Then the leader put his hand on the engineer's shoulder. ”Stop the engine,” he said; ”the game is up; the dance is over!”

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 bra.s.s 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.

Andrews turned to the men who were huddled together in the tender.

”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. G.o.d bless you, boys, and may we all meet again!”

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 doc.u.ments. One of them was a letter from General Mitch.e.l.l which, had it been found upon Andrews by the Confederates, would in itself have proved evidence enough to convict him as a spy.

The men in the tender jumped to the ground. So, likewise, did George, the engineer and his a.s.sistant. Andrews remained standing in the cab. He looked like some sea captain who was waiting to sink beneath the waves in his deserted s.h.i.+p. He worked at the lever and touched the valve, and then leaped from his post to the roadbed. The next moment ”The General” was moving backwards towards the oncoming ”Texas.”

”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.

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.

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.

”That's no good,” sighed Andrews. ”Come, comrades, while there is still time, and off with us in different parties. Push to the westward, and we may come up to Mitch.e.l.l's forces on the other side of Chattanooga.”

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.

”What's the matter?” asked the boy anxiously.

”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.

”Come on,” he continued, when he had regained his breath; ”we can't stay here. I wonder why Mitch.e.l.l didn't push on and capture Chattanooga. Then we would not have had to desert the old engine.”

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