Part 17 (1/2)

”I'll pull the pin,” said Tom. He lay down on the floor and reached for the coupling; then he drew back. ”No-here, shove a tie off. Well see if we can wreck her.”

As he drew the pin out, the others threw a tie down. It struck one wheel of the detached car, bounded, struck again and then bounded out of the way. The men silently watched the car rolling along behind them.

Tom shook his head in disgust. ”Let's knock the ends of these cars out,” he said. Once again they took the rail up and battered their way through. Tom climbed up over the end of the tender and reported to Andrews.

”We tried to wreck it,” he said, ”but the tie bounced out of the way.”

Andrews nodded and leaned from the cab. ”We're within a mile of Reseca bridge,” he said slowly. ”I don't dare to stop and build a fire. They're too close upon us.”

Now, for the first time, Tom realized that the raid might fail in its purpose. The excitement of the race, of reaching this point where the road to Chattanooga lay clear before them, had been upon him; it had never entered his head that their long struggle against so many obstacles could end in anything but glorious success. Surely they could do something to block the way of the pursuing engine.

”Can't we stop and fight?” he asked. ”Put up an obstacle at one of these curves, and attack them from ambush? We're all armed.”

”No,” answered Andrews; ”they'll be better armed.” He still believed that the engine in their rear had come from Atlanta-probably with a detachment of soldiers aboard, prepared for a battle. ”There are bridges ahead-the Chickamauga bridges. We'll drop another car on the Reseca bridge. Go back and tell them. I'll slow down. Try to wreck it in the shed.”

Tom hurried back again over the wood pile.

The Reseca bridge which ran over the Oostenaula River was covered by a long shed. And, as it was built upon a curve in the road, a box-car-either wrecked or merely left standing-could not be seen until the pursuing engine was almost upon it.

Ross stood at the side door of the first freight car, while Tom clutched the coupling pin, ready to draw it. Others waited with ties. The train's speed decreased.

”Get ready,” yelled Ross; then, as they entered the shed, ”Go!”

Tom drew the pin. The car seemed to cling to the train for several seconds; then the General leaped ahead. Ties streamed out upon the track. The wheels of the abandoned car knocked several out of the way; then, as the train swung about the curve, leaving the car hidden in the shed, Tom saw one tie resting at an angle across the track. The wheels struck it, and the car lurched heavily.... They could see no more.

”I think we put it off the track,” cried Tom exultantly when he was back in the engine. Andrews slapped him on the back.

”We'll have to break the wires above here,” he said as the little station in Reseca flashed past them. ”Stop about a mile up here, Knight. On a curve.”

”Wood!” yelled Brown.

Tom took up the work of dragging logs from the tender and stuffing them in the fire-box. He stopped once, and pointed to the wood pile. Fuel was running low.

”At Green's Station,” said Andrews.

”Water there, too?” asked Brown.

”At Tilton-just a few miles farther on.” Andrews waved to Knight to shut off the power.

”If that car at Reseca bridge doesn't stop them, we're cornered,” panted Andrews as he ran back. ”Put an obstruction here! That bent rail!”

The men ran back to the car and pulled out the rail. It was the one they had ripped from the ties north of Calhoun. They forced the straight end of it under the track, leaving the bent end projecting toward the pursuers-a scarcely visible snag which would rip into the engine.

”Keep dropping ties, men,” ordered Andrews. ”We have to stop at the wood yard.”

Brown took the throttle and pushed the General onward toward Green's Station. Tom put the last of the fuel in the fire, and leaned wearily against the cab. Drops of rain, carried by the wind, splashed upon him and ran down his body, streaking the soot which covered his chest and stomach. His eyes met Knight's and they looked at each other dumbly, asking each other how the the race would end. Instinctively they turned toward Andrews. He was in the fireman's seat, hands clenched and face set, staring ahead. He did not move until they were within sight of Green's Station.

The General stopped at the wood pile and the men jumped out. The keeper of the yard came running toward them. Andrews waved him aside.

”Throw that wood aboard, men,” he said. But they had already attacked the pile.