“That’s better,” cried the engineer. “We need wood more than we need a kingdom!”
“Throw out some of those cross-ties,” thundered the leader. The men dropped a tie here and there on the track, so that a temporary obstruction might be presented to the pursuing locomotive.
“That’s some help,” said Andrews, as he craned his neck out of the cab window and looked back along the line. “Those ties will make them stop a while, any way.” In fact the enemy had already stopped upon encountering the first log; two men from the tender were moving it from the track.
“We’ve a good fighting chance yet,” cried Andrews, whose enthusiasm had suddenly returned. “If we can burn another bridge, and block these fellows, the day is ours!”
“The water in the boiler is almost gone!” announced the engineer.
George’s heart sank. What meant all the wood in the world without a good supply of water? But Andrews was equal to the emergency. “Can you hold out for another mile or so?” he asked.
“Just about that, and no more,” came the answer.
“All right. We are about to run by Tilton station. A little beyond that, if I remember rightly, is a water tank.” Andrews, in his capacity as a spy within the Southern lines, knew Georgia well, and had frequently traveled over this particular railroad. It was his acquaintance with the line, indeed, that had enabled him to get through thus far without failure.
Past Tilton ran “The General,” as it nearly swept two frightened rustics from the platform. Then the engine began to slow up, until it finally rested at the water tank.
“I was right,” said Andrews. He leaped from the cab, and gazed down the line. “The enemy is not in sight now,” he cried. “Those ties are giving them trouble. Put some more on the track, boys. George, try some more wire-cutting. Brown, get your boiler filled.”