Now the clatter of hoofs was heard out in the street. The heavy wagons with their heaps of rifles and long tin boxes full of cartridges were driven up at a mad pace. A wild tumult ensued as the boxes were rushed to the train—two men to a box—and the doors slammed to. Then the empty wagons rattled back through the silent streets. Meanwhile Forster ran his engine on the turntable, where it was quickly reversed, and in a few moments it stood, puffing and snorting, at the other end of the train.
All this consumed less than half an hour. Suddenly shots rang out in the neighboring streets, but as no detachment of hostile troops appeared, the Americans concluded that they had been fired by a patrol which was coming from the electric-works to see what the noise at the station was about. Several rockets with their blinding magnesium light appeared in the dark sky and illumined the roofs of the houses. Was it a warning signal?
All at once the electric gongs near the station which were connected with Brown & Co.'s cellar began to ring, a sign that something suspicious had been noticed at the waterworks. Forster was waiting impatiently in his engine for the signal of departure and could not imagine why Fighting Dick was postponing it so long. He was standing in the doorway of the station and now called out: "Where is Arthur Engelmann?"
"Not here," came the answer from the train.
"Where can he be?"
The name was called out several times, but no one answered. The train was ready to start and the men were distributing the boxes carefully inside the cars, so as to be able to unload them without loss of time at their respective destinations. And now, at last, Arthur Engelmann came running into the station.
"Hurry up!" called Fighting Dick.
"No, wait a minute! We'll have to take this fellow along," cried Engelmann, pointing to a wounded man, who was being carried by two comrades.
"Put him down! We'll have to be off! We've got plenty of men, but not enough guns."
"You must take him!"