So busy was Fred that he had not noticed that two men on horseback had ridden up to the fence, gazed at him a moment in astonishment, then shouted in anger, and dismounted. Snatching a revolver from his pocket, Fred sent a ball whistling by their ears, and yelled: "Back! back, as you value your lives!"
Jumping on their horses quicker than they dismounted, they galloped toward the approaching train, yelling and wildly gesticulating. The engineer saw them, but it was before the day of air brakes, and it was impossible to stop the heavy train. The engine plunged off the track, tore up the ground and ties for a few yards, and then turned over on its side, where it lay spouting smoke and steam, and groaning like a thing of life. It lay partly across the track, thus completely blocking it. The engineer and fireman had jumped, and so slowly was the train running that the cars did not leave the track. For this Fred was devoutly thankful. He had accomplished his object, and no one had been injured. Jumping on his horse, he gave a shout of triumph and rode away.
But the frightened soldiers had been pouring from the cars. The two men on horseback were pointing at Fred and yelling: "There! there goes the villain who did it."
"Fire! fire!" thundered a colonel who had just sprung out of the foremost car. A hundred rifles blazed. Fred's horse, was seen to stumble slightly; the boy swayed, and leaned forward in his seat; but quickly recovering himself, he turned around and waving his hat shouted defiance.
"Fire! Fire!" thundered a Colonel who had just sprung out of the foremost car.
"Great heavens!" shouted a boy's voice. "That is Fred Shackelford, and that horse is Prince." It was Calhoun Pennington who spoke. The colonel who had given the order to fire turned pale, staggered and would have fallen if one of his officers had not caught him.
"Merciful God!" he moaned. "I ordered my men to fire on my own son."