His companions crowded around him.
“Let us stand and fight them!” cried Watson.
“Yes,” urged Jenks, who had forgotten all about his sore back; “we can make a stand here!”
Andrews shook his head. “Better go on, boys,” he answered. “We have taken out this rail, and that will delay them. In the meantime we can go on to the Oostenaula bridge and burn it.”
There was no time for discussion. The men yielded their usual assent to the orders of their chief. They quickly scrambled back into the train, to their respective posts, and Andrews gave the signal for departure.
“Push the engine for all it’s worth!” he commanded; “we must make the bridge before the enemy are on us.” The engineer set “The General” going at a rattling pace.
“How on earth could we be pursued, after the way we cut the wires along the line,” muttered the leader. “Can the enemy have telegraphed from Big Shanty to Kingston by some circuitous route? I don’t understand.”
“Are you making full speed?” he asked the engineer, a second later.
“The old horse is doing his best,” answered the man, “but the wood is getting precious low.”
“George, pour some engine oil into the furnace.”