Part 14 (1/2)
It was Fuller's idea that his train had been taken by conscripts who were deserting from the Confederate encampment on the other side of the tracks. He believed that they would run the engine until they had put several miles between them and Big Shanty, and then take refuge in the woods. He had been warned in Atlanta, just before he left on this run, to keep a sharp watch for deserting conscripts; it was for that reason he had scrutinized the pa.s.sengers in his train so closely.
With Fuller in the lead, they rounded curve after curve of the track, hoping each time to find the abandoned engine.
”I can't go any farther,” panted the engineer.
”Come on!” yelled Fuller.
The men yanked off their coats, tossed them aside, and settled down into a trot. Murphy was still bringing up the rear.
Presently they came to Moon Station. Not far away there was a miniature flat-car of the type which is loaded with tools and supplies and pushed along the track. Ahead of them the road swept down in a gentle grade.
”Throw that on the track,” ordered Fuller. The four men, puffing from their long run, took the corners of the little car and dragged it to the tracks. Fuller started them with a shove, then scrambled aboard.
”I sent the agent riding back to Marietta,” panted Murphy.
”At Etowah,” replied Fuller, ”they have an engine-the Yonah. It belongs to the iron works. If it isn't up at the mills we'll take it.”
”Has it steam up?” asked Murphy.
”I don't know. If it hasn't, we're done.”
The hand-car was coasting easily down the grade; it rounded a sharp bend.
”Jump!” yelled the engineer.
His warning came too late. The car reached the spot where Andrews' men had torn up the rail; its wheels left the track and it spun about, scattering the men over the ground.
”Anybody hurt?” demanded Fuller, scrambling to his feet.
”No,” they answered. All of them were bruised and the fireman's cheek was cut. ”It's nothing,” he said. They righted the car and dragged it to the track.
”Look at that!” called Fuller, pointing to the broken telegraph wires.
”This isn't a conscript's job.”
”What do you think?” asked Murphy. ”The Yanks?”
”Probably. Get that car back on the tracks, anyway. Grab some of those fence rails. We've about reached the bottom of the grade, and we can pole the car faster than we can walk. I can't run another inch.”
They found two light rails, boarded the car and coasted to the bottom of the grade. Then began the tedious work of poling. It was, as Fuller had said, faster than walking. On level track they could go five or six miles an hour; on the upgrades, two of them walked while the other two poled.
At the top of the last grade before they came to Etowah, they looked down and saw the Yonah a mile away, upon the turn-table. The locomotive was being turned for its trip up the branch to the iron works!
”Give a pus.h.!.+” yelled Fuller. ”In another minute we're lost.”
The four men ran beside the hand car and started down the grade, jumping aboard when they could run no faster. The car slipped to and fro on the tracks, yanked them about the curves.
”Keep a sharp lookout ahead on the tracks,” ordered Fuller. But the way was clear. If Andrews had stopped at this point to obstruct the track, the pursuit which followed would have been impossible. The Yonah would have been on its way up the branch before the hand car arrived.
As it was, the engineer of the Yonah was climbing aboard when his attention was attracted by the yells of the men on the approaching car, flying down the track as fast as a hand car ever traveled. He waited, wondering what was wrong.
Fuller ran to the Yonah, while his men pushed the hand car from the track. ”We'll have to take this engine,” he said. ”The Yanks have stolen my train!” The three men joined him, and before the engineer could protest, they were pus.h.i.+ng at the bar of the turn-table, swinging the locomotive around.