"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."