In an incredibly short space of time the telegraph wire had been cut, the engine was provided with water, and some more ties had been placed upon the track in the rear. What a curious scene the party presented; how tired, and dirty, yet how courageous they all looked.
“Shall we take up a rail?” demanded Macgreggor. Scarcely had the words left his lips before the whistle of the enemy was again heard.
“No time,” shouted the leader. “Let’s be off!”
Off went the train—the grimy, panting engine, the tender, and the one baggage car, which was now literally torn to pieces in the frantic endeavor to provide kindling-wood.
“We want more wood,” George shouted back to the men after they had proceeded a couple of miles. Some wood was thrown into the tender from the baggage car, with the gloomy news: “This is all we have left!”
“No more wood after this,” explained George.
“All right,” answered Andrews, very cheerfully. “Tell them to throw out a few more ties on the track—as long as they’re too big to burn in our furnace.”
The order was shouted back to the car. It was instantly obeyed. There was now another obstruction for the enemy; but George wondered how Andrews, full of resources though he might be, would find more wood for the engine. But Andrews was equal even to this.
“Stop!” cried the leader, after they had passed up the line about a mile from where the ties had been last thrown out. “The General” was soon motionless, breathing and quivering like some blooded horse which had been suddenly reined in during a race.
“Here’s more work for you, boys,” cried Andrews. He was already on the ground, pointing to the wooden fences which encompassed the fields on both sides of the track. The men needed no further prompting. In less than three minutes a large number of rails were reposing in the tender. George regarded them with an expression of professional pride, as befitted the fireman of the train.