They received a warm welcome at the railroad company’s office as soon as the object of their call was known. It had been a week since the last train had gone over the route, and a big accumulation of freight wanted to be moved. They were offered big wages and accepted.
“Well, Fret, we’re in for it now,” said Jack, as they went to the station to make their first trip.
The young fireman made no reply. He was already beginning to regret the step he had taken, though Jack’s fearlessness was not without its effect on him.
A big crowd was at the station to see the train start, which made Fret feel the importance of his position.
The train had a fifty-mile run and Jack found that he was expected to make it and return the same day. This did not seem a difficult task, providing the bush-raiders let them alone.
The road was in a terrible condition, yet the first trip was made without adventure and Fret’s spirits rose.
“Probably the bush-raiders did not know we were going yesterday,” said Jack, as his helper was boasting of their easy job.
Jack could not say as much when he got back from his second trip, for no less than three shots had been fired into the caboose.
Fret Offut was in genuine alarm. The situation was worse than had been described to Jack. Reports showed that the bush-raiders were gaining in numbers every day, and growing more bold as they increased in strength. The country, sparsely settled, through which the railroad ran seemed especially fitted for their guerrilla warfare, to say nothing of the poor state of the road-bed, which at places actually made the passage dangerous. Then, too, the cars and engine were cheap and simple affairs, offering no protection from the bullets of the enemies.
But Jack had no intention of giving up at this stage of the situation, and Fret concluded to risk a third trip.