“Hurry’s the matter,” laughs the leader, as unconcernedly as if he were speaking of nothing more dangerous than a picnic. “The General tells me we must start at once, if we want to accomplish anything. To-morrow [Tuesday] morning he takes his army straight south to Huntsville. If he captures the town by Friday, as he expects to do, he can move eastwards, to Chattanooga. So we will do our bridge-burning and our train-stealing on Friday, before the railroad is obstructed with trains bringing Confederate reinforcements to the latter city.”
Even in the darkness one could detect the gleam in the eyes of the men as they saw before them, with pleasure rather than fear, the risky part they were to play in the drama of warfare. The eyes of George sparkled, likewise.
“If I could only go with them,” he thought. What was camp life compared to the delight of such an adventure? Waggie gave a bark. Even he seemed to scent something interesting.
“You soldiers,” continued Andrews, “must break into detachments, make your way eastward into the Cumberland Mountains, and then southward, well into the Confederate lines. There you can take the cars, and by next Thursday night you must all meet me down at Marietta, Georgia. The next morning according to a plan which you will learn at Marietta, (which is on the Georgia State Railroad) we will put our little ruse into effect—and may providence smile on it.”
“But what will the men pretend to be while on their way down to Marietta?” asked George, who could scarce contain either his curiosity or his enthusiasm.
“Look here, my boy,” said Andrews, in a quick though not in an unkindly way. “I don’t know that you should be hearing all this.”
Had the scene been less dark one might have seen the flush on the boy’s face.
“I didn’t think I was playing eavesdropper,” he retorted.
Andrews put his right hand on George’s shoulder. “Come,” he said, in a spirit of friendliness; “I didn’t exactly mean that. I know you’re to be trusted, from what General Mitchell has said of you. But you must keep a tight rein on your tongue, and not say a syllable, even in camp, of this expedition. There’s no reason why the whole army should be discussing it—until the thing’s done. Then you can talk about it as much as you want.”
George no longer felt offended. “You can depend on me,” he said manfully. “I won’t even tell the General.”