George worked with a will in assisting the men in the cab to convey wood from the tender into the engine furnace. In three minutes “The General” had resumed its way.
“I wonder,” thought George, as the train twisted around a curve and then sped across a narrow embankment, “if any attempt will be made to follow us.” But the very idea of such pursuit seemed absurd.
Andrews turned to Jenks with a smiling countenance. “The most difficult part of our journey is already over,” he said triumphantly. “There’s only one unscheduled train to meet, in addition to the two regulars. After I meet it, probably at Kingston, twenty-five miles or more farther on, we can put the old ‘General’ to full speed, and begin our work! We have got the upper hand at last.”
“Don’t forget your telegraph wire is to be cut,” said Jenks, as he jammed his shabby cap over his head, to prevent it from sailing off into space.
“Wait a couple of minutes,” answered the leader. “We’ll cut it.” He knew that although there was no telegraph station at Big Shanty, yet the enemy might tap the wire, if it were not cut, and thus send word along the line that a train manned by Northern spies was to be watched for and peremptorily stopped. The simplest obstruction on the track would be sufficient to bring this journey to an untimely end.
“Brown, we’ll stop here,” commanded the leader, a minute or two later, as the engine was running over a comparatively level section. “The General” was soon motionless, whereupon Watson, peering out from the baggage car, called out: “Anything wrong?”
“Only a little wire-cutting to be done,” shouted Andrews. Then coming to George, he said: “Look here, my boy, how are you on climbing?”
“Never had a tree beat me yet,” said the lad.
“Then try your skill at that pole yonder, and see if you can get to the top of it.”
Without waiting to make answer George handed Waggie to Jenks, jumped from the tender to the ashy road-bed, and started towards the nearest telegraph pole, only a few feet away from the engine. It was a far more difficult task to coax one’s way up a smooth pole than up the rough bark of a tree, as George soon learned. Twice he managed to clamber half way up the pole, and twice he slid ignominiously to the ground. But he was determined to succeed, and none the less so because the men in the baggage car were looking on as intently as if they were at the circus. Upon making the third attempt he conquered, and reached the top of the pole amid the cheering of the spectators.