“Hammer the wedges in,” he said. “It was pure foolishness made me come here to save you from the cavalry who had heard of what you meant to do, because we have no use for men of your kind in this country. You haven’t even sense enough to keep your rifles handy, and there will be two or three less of you to worry decent folks if you keep us waiting.”
A man took up the hammer, and then waited a moment, looking at those who stood about Larry. He could see the faces of one or two in the lantern light, and recognized that he need expect no support from them. The men were resolute Americans, who had no desire for anything approaching anarchy.
“We are with Larry, and don’t feel like fooling. Hadn’t you better start in?” one of them said.
The rail was promptly fastened, and Grant, after examining it, came back.
“Go on in front of us, and take your tools along! It will not be nice for the man who tries to get away,” he said.
The prisoners plodded dejectedly up the track until they reached the calaboose, into which the others drove them. Then Grant and Breckenridge went back to the locomotive, and the former nodded to the engineer:
“Take us through to Boynton as fast as you can.”
“That is a big load off your mind,” Breckenridge said as the panting engine got under way.
But Grant, huddled in a corner, neither moved nor spoke until, half an hour later, they rolled into a little wooden town and the men in the calaboose got down. There was nobody about the depot to ask them any questions, and they crossed the track to the straggling street apparently on good terms with each other, though four of them knew that unpleasant results would follow any attempt at a dash for liberty. In answer to Grant’s knock, a man let them into one of the stores.
“I guess we’ll lock them in the back store until morning,” he said, after a short conference apart with Grant. “A little cooling down is not going to do them much harm, and I don’t think anyone could get out without an axe.”