“He has behaved like a gentleman, so far,” said the engineer. “He must be in sympathy with us Northerners.”
“Slow up!” ordered Andrews. “The old fellow is beginning to wheeze a little bit; I can tell that he needs oiling.”
Obedient to the command, the engineer brought “The General” to a halt. As the men came running from the baggage car, Andrews ordered them to take up another rail.
“It’s good exercise, boys,” he laughed, “even if it may not be actually necessary.”
Then he helped his engineers to inspect “The General.” The engine was still in excellent condition, although the wood and water were running a little low. It received a quick oiling, while George climbed up a telegraph pole and severed a wire in the manner heretofore described. Eight of the party were pulling at a rail, one end of which was loose and the other still fastened to the cross-ties by spikes.
Suddenly, away to the southward, came the whistle of an engine. Had a thunderbolt descended upon the men, the effect could not have been more startling. The workers at the rail tore it away from the track, in their wild excitement, and, losing their balance, fell headlong down the side of the embankment on which they had been standing. They were up again the next instant, unhurt, but eager to know the meaning of the whistle.
Was there an engine in pursuit? Andrews looked down the track.
“See!” he cried.
There was something to gaze at. Less than a mile away a large locomotive, which was reversed so that the tender came first, was running rapidly up the line, each instant approaching nearer and nearer to the fugitives. In the tender stood men who seemed to be armed with muskets.
“They are after us,” said Andrews. “There’s no doubt about it.” He was very calm now; he spoke as if he were discussing the most commonplace matter in the world.