The Rod and Gun Club

by Harry Castlemon

“We are not going into the city to-night,” answered the captain. “We are sent down here simply to act as guards, and if there is any fighting to be done, the 61st will have to do it. Our orders read in this way: ‘You will leave the train at Hamilton creek and guard the railroad property there during the night. Use such cars as you can, and keep all the guards out that may be necessary.’ There are no signs of a gathering at the creek, but in order to be on the safe side the professor has ordered the conductor to let us out at least a quarter of a mile from the bridge. If a mob appears anywhere along the road, we are to get off and form before we go up to it.”

There was nothing in these plans with which any military man could have found fault. They would have met the requirements of the case in every particular, had it not been for the fact that Professor Kellogg had to deal with men who were as treacherous as the plains Indians are said to be. There was a mob at the bridge, and the engineer saw it long before he reached it. In fact he ran through a part of it, and did not stop his train until he was right in the midst of it. The first thing the boys knew their car was standing still, hoarse yells and imprecations which disturbed their dreams for many a night afterward were arising on all sides of them, and the rioters were crowding upon the platforms.

“Lave this kyar open; we’re strong,” said a man, in a voice which proclaimed his nationality; and as he spoke he threw open the rear door and placed one end of his heavy cane against it, at the same time drawing himself back out of sight as much as he could.

“Attention!” shouted Captain Mack, prompted by the professor; whereupon the young soldiers arose and stood in front of their seats. Their bayonets were fixed, they had loaded their guns when they left the station at which they had stopped for orders, and if they had been commanded to act at once, the mob never would have gained a footing in the car. But Mr. Kellogg did just what he ought not to have done—he stood in the front door, blocking the way as well as he could, and trying to reason with the leaders of the rabble, who demanded to know why he had come down there, and what he was going to do. The professor told them in reply that he was not going into the city that night, that he had been ordered to stop at the bridge and guard the railroad property there, and this seemed to satisfy the mob, who might have dispersed or gone back to Hamilton, as their leaders promised, had it not been for one unfortunate occurrence.

The attention of everybody in the car was directed toward the men who were gathered about the front door, and no one seemed to remember that there was a rear door at which no guard had been stationed. The rioters at that end of the car did not at first make themselves very conspicuous, for they did not like the looks of the muskets the young soldiers held in their hands; but in a very few minutes they grew bold enough to move across the platform in little squads, stopping on the way to take a hasty glance at the interior, and finally some of the reckless ones among them ventured to come in. These were followed by others, and in less time than it takes to tell it the aisle was packed with strikers, who even forced their way into the seats, crowding the boys out of their places. About this time Mr. Kellogg happened to look behind him, and seeing that he and his men were at the mercy of the mob—there were more strikers than soldiers in the car now—he called out to the conductor, who stood on the front platform, to go ahead with the train.

“I can’t do it,” was the reply. “The strikers are in full possession of it.”

“Well, then, cut loose from us and go ahead with your passengers,” said Professor Kellogg. “This is as far as I want to go anyhow.”

“And you couldn’t go any farther if you wanted to,” said a loud-mouthed striker. “We’ll have the last one of you hung up to the telegraph poles before morning.”

“Who said that?” exclaimed one of the leaders at the front door. “Knock that man down, somebody, or make him keep his tongue still.”

“Shove the car on to the switch,” yelled somebody outside.