The boy seized the oil can, and obeyed the order. The speed of “The General” increased; the engine seemed to spring forward like a horse to which the spur has been applied.
“That’s better,” said Andrews. “Now if we can only burn that bridge before the enemy are up to us, there is still a chance for success—and life!” His voice sank almost to a whisper as he uttered the last word. With a strange, indescribable sensation, George suddenly realized how near they all were to disaster, even to death. He thought of his father, and then he thought of Waggie, and wondered what was to become of the little dog. The boy was cool; he had no sense of fear; it seemed as if he were figuring in some curious dream.
Suddenly Andrews left the engine, lurched into the tender, and began to climb out of it, and thence to the platform of the first baggage car. George looked back at him in dread; surely the leader would be hurled from the flying train and killed. But he reached the car in safety and opened the door. He shouted out an order which George could not hear, so great was the rattle of the train; then he made his way, with the ease of a sure-footed chamois, back to “The General.” He had ordered the men in the car to split up part of its sides for kindling-wood. By the use of the cross-ties, which they had picked up along the road, they battered down some of the planking of the walls, and quickly reduced it to smaller pieces. It was a thrilling sight. The men worked as they had never worked before. It was at the imminent risk of falling out, however, and as the train swung along over the track it seemed a miracle that none of them went flying through the open sides of the now devastated car.
On rushed “The General.” As it turned a curve George, who was now in the tender, glanced back to his right and saw—the pursuing engine less than a mile behind.
“They are after us again!” he shouted. “They have gotten past the broken rail somehow,” he said. “They must have track repairing instruments on board.”
Andrews set his lips firmly together like a man who determines to fight to the last.
George made his way back to the cab. “Will we have time to burn the bridge?” he asked.
“We must wait and see,” answered the leader, as he once more left the engine and finally reached the despoiled baggage car. He said something to Jenks; then he returned to the cab.
“What are you going to do?” anxiously asked the boy. He could hear the shrill whistle of the pursuing locomotive. “Com-ing! Com-ing!” it seemed to say to his overwrought imagination.
Andrews made no answer to George; instead he shouted a command to the engineer: “Reverse your engine, and move backwards at full speed!”