Part 12 (1/2)

THE RACE

The sudden jerk of the engine sent Tom spinning against the side of the cab. Andrews, who was mounting the wood-pile in the tender to see what was happening behind them, was thrown flat. He scrambled to his feet, his hands bleeding from the splinters, and climbed up the pile. Then he waved his arms and yelled in exultation. The yell sounded faintly through the noise of the engine.

Tom swung from the cab and looked back. The crowd was spilling from the shed. Several men raced after the train. Others stood watching, dumfounded.

Knight was bending over the throttle, urging the train forward as though he were putting his own strength into the flying pistons. His lips were drawn back from his set teeth, and his left hand upon the throttle was white from its grip. With his right hand he was pounding upon the sill of the cab.

Brown was studying the steam gauge. He had opened the forced draft and the smoke stack had become a fountain of sparks.

”More wood!” he yelled.

Tom stripped off his coat. The General was pounding upon the rails, swaying from side to side. It was almost impossible to stand without clinging to the side of the cab. Tom lurched cautiously toward the tender, grabbed a log and dragged it back after him. Brown swung the door of the fire-box open. Tom gasped as the heat struck him. The red flames seemed to leap out at him, enveloping him, smothering him. He slid the log into the fire. The door crashed shut again. ”More! More!” yelled Brown.

Again and again Tom fed logs into the flames. Each time, Brown opened and closed the door as though an instant's heat were too precious to be lost. Brown's eyes were constantly upon the wavering needle of the steam gauge.

Andrews, sitting in the fireman's seat, was leaning from the window, glancing first ahead and then back. Except for that first shout of triumph, he had been calm and deliberate.

”Enough for now,” shouted Brown. ”Rest!”

Tom, panting and weak, climbed up beside Andrews and put his head out so that the cool wind would strike it. The violent effort of dragging those logs from the tender to the fire-box, together with the heat that played upon him each time, had made his legs seem like jelly beneath him. But the cool air revived him, and he watched Brown constantly for the signal that more wood was needed. Once he looked back and saw Shadrack leaning from the door of the boxcar. They waved excitedly to each other.

”Stop!” yelled Andrews to Knight.

Brown repeated the order. Knight, aroused from his intense purpose of forcing the last ounce of speed out of the General, shut the throttle. Brown gave the whistle a blast, and began twisting at the brake. Gradually the train lost its speed. The men in the box-car leaned from the door, asking why they were stopping.

”Come up here,” yelled Andrews. ”One of you men climb that telegraph pole and knock the insulating cap off. Then break the wire.”

A little fellow named Scott scrambled up the pole. Telegraph communications were broken ahead of them.

”There's no telegraph station at Big Shanty,” explained Andrews. ”The best they can do is to go on horseback to Marietta and telegraph to Atlanta for an engine to pursue us. But they can't telegraph ahead of us! At Kingston we'll meet the regular freight train, which is traveling against us. While we're standing in the yards the door of the box-car must be closed. Do you understand?”

”Yes!” shouted the men.

”Hop aboard then!”

Once again the General started forward. Brown was at the throttle.

”More wood!” yelled Knight.

With Knight at the door of the fire-box, Tom yanked a half-dozen logs from the tender and slid them into the flames.

”Not too fast,” Andrews called to Brown. ”We're out of the worst of it now, and we don't want to get to Kingston too soon. Have to wait in the yards.”

Brown nodded and slackened the speed. Now they could talk without yelling.

Presently Andrews ordered another stop and they drew up beside Moon Station. He jumped out and came back with an iron bar. ”Go ahead,” he yelled, then, pointing to the bar: ”Good for pulling up track.”

Tom added more fuel, and then stood at the door of the cab to see Allatoona as they went through. Brown opened the throttle gradually. The outskirts of the town whizzed past them; then the station. The crowd upon the station platform, expecting that this was the pa.s.senger train, stared uncomprehendingly as the train thundered in and out of town.

They rounded a bend which cut Allatoona off from view; then Andrews motioned to Brown to stop. Tom grabbed the brake and tightened it. The train stopped abruptly. Andrews pointed to the telegraph line.

”Tear it down, Scott. Let's pull up some rails here.”