Chasing an Iron Horse

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  "The Next Moment Was a Blank"]

  CHASING AN IRON HORSEOrA Boy's Adventures in the Civil War

  ByEDWARD ROBINS

  Author of "With Washington in Braddock's Campaign,""A Boy in Early Virginia," etc.

  QUI NON PROFICIT DEFICIT]

  PHILADELPHIAGEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.PUBLISHERS

  Copyright, 1902,By GEORGE W. JACOBS & Co.

  Published August, 1902.

  Preface

  The locomotive chase in Georgia, which forms what may be called thebackground of this story, was an actual occurrence of the great Civil War.But I wish to emphasize the fact that the following pages belong to therealm of fiction. Some of the incidents, and the character of Andrews, arehistoric, whilst other incidents and characters are imaginary. The readerwho would like to procure an account of the chase as it really happenedshould consult the narrative of the Reverend William Pittenger. Mr.Pittenger took part in the expedition organized by Andrews, and his recordof it is a graphic contribution to the annals of the conflict betweenNorth and South.

  Edward Robins.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. HAZARDOUS PLANS 7 II. NEARING THE GOAL 27 III. MINGLING WITH THE ENEMY 56 IV. PLOT AND PLOTTERS 95 V. ON THE RAIL 121 VI. AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE 156 VII. ENERGETIC PURSUIT 188 VIII. TWO WEARY WANDERERS 206 IX. IN GREATEST PERIL 232 X. FINAL TRIALS 263

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  "The Next Moment was a blank" FrontispieceThe Major merely changed the position of his legs 82Fuller was steaming to the northward with "The Yonah" 192None too soon had he executed this manoeuvre 214Watson placed his hand over the man's mouth 270

  CHASING AN IRON HORSE

  CHAPTER I

  HAZARDOUS PLANS

  The lightning flashes, the mutterings of thunder, like the low growls ofsome angry animal, and the shrieking of the wind through swaying branches,gave a weird, uncanny effect to a scene which was being enacted, on acertain April night of the year 1862, in a secluded piece of woodland amile or more east of the village of Shelbyville, Tennessee. In the centreof a small clearing hemmed in by trees stood a tall, full-bearded man ofdistinguished bearing. Around him were grouped twenty sturdy fellows wholistened intently, despite the stir of the elements, to something that hewas saying in a low, serious tone of voice. None of them, strangelyenough, wore a uniform, although they were all loyal Union soldiersbelonging to the division of troops commanded by General O. M. Mitchell,then encamped on the banks of Duck River, only a couple of miles away. Forthe country was now engaged in the life-and-death struggle of the CivilWar, when Northerner fought against Southerner--sometimes brother againstbrother--and no one could predict whether the result would be a divided ora reunited nation.

  "My friends," the speaker was solemnly saying, as a new flash from thedarkened heavens lit up the landscape for a second, and showed howresolute were the lines of his face; "my friends, if you go into thisscheme with me, you are taking your lives into your hands. It's only fairthat I should impress this upon you, and give any and all of you a chanceto drop out."

  There was a quick, sharp clap of thunder, which was not loud enough,however, to drown the earnest protest of every listener. "We're notcowards, Andrews!" "We'll stick to you through thick and thin!" "Nobody'sgoing to draw back!" These were among the fervent answers which greetedthe leader addressed as Andrews. The latter was evidently pleased, thoughby no means surprised. He was dealing with brave men, and he knew hisaudience.

  "All the better, boys," he went on, with a complacent ring in his soft butpenetrating voice. "You see, this is the situation. The Confederates areconcentrating at Corinth, Mississippi, and Generals Grant and Buell areadvancing by different routes against them. Now, our own General Mitchellfinds himself in a position to press into East Tennessee as far aspossible, and he hopes soon to seize Chattanooga, after he has takenHuntsville, Alabama. But to do this he must cut off Chattanooga from allrailroad communication to the south and east, and therefore all aid. Inother words, we men are to enter the enemy's country in disguise, capturea train on the Georgia State railroad, steam off with it, and burn thebridges leading in the direction of Chattanooga, on the northern end ofthe road. It is one of the most daring ideas ever conceived, and itsexecution will be full of difficulties. If we fail we shall be hanged asspies! If we succeed, there will be promotion and glory for all of us, andour names will go down into history."

  There was a murmur of encouragement from the men, as one said: "We mustsucceed, if only to save our necks." The next moment the barking of a dogcould be heard above the whistling of the wind.

  "Be careful," cried Andrews, warningly; "some one may be listening."

  Hardly had he spoken before two figures bounded from the encircling treesinto the open space wherein stood the startled conspirators. While flashesof lightning played through the branches, and gave fitful illumination tothe scene, the men saw revealed a lad of about fifteen or sixteen years ofage, flushed and breathless, and at his heels a tiny Yorkshire terrier,bright of face, and with an inquiring glance that seemed to say: "What isall this fuss about?" As the animal danced around the boy it was evidentthat the latter was by no means frightened, or even surprised, by thestrangeness of this meeting in the forest. His regular, handsome featuresand intelligent, sparkling gray eyes denoted excitement rather than fear.He sprang forward, and, pulling a letter from an inner pocket of his bluejacket, made straight for Andrews.

  "Why, if it isn't George Knight," muttered one soldier, "and his chum,Waggie."

  The dog, hearing his own name, came up and fawned upon the man who hadspoken, while the boy thrust into the hands of the leader the letter whichhe had so carefully guarded.

  "This is from General Mitchell," explained young Knight. "He said it wasmost urgent--and I was to fetch it to you as soon as possible."

  Andrews opened the letter, as he replied kindly to the lad: "You look outof breath, George. Did you have a hard time reaching here?"

  "As Waggie and I were hurrying up the Shelbyville road in the darkness,"returned George Knight, "we ran into a company of Confederate guerrillas.They paid us the compliment of firing at us--and we had to run for ourlives. But we gave the fellows the slip."

  Thereupon Waggie gave a growl. Andrews, who was about to read the letterfrom General Mitchell, assumed a listening attitude. So did every oneelse. Out on the highroad, not a hundred yards away, could be heard thetramping of horses. Involuntarily the men put their hands towards thepockets which contained their revolvers.

  "The guerrillas!" muttered the boy, as Andrews gave him a questioninglook.

  "How many are there of them?" asked the leader.

  "Hard to tell in the dark," answered George. "I think there were a dozenor so."

  "Oh, if that's all, let's give 'em a scare, boys!" laughed Andrews.Suiting the action to his words, he pulled out a pistol from his hippocket, and fired it in the direction of the highroad. His companions,nothing loath, quickly followed his example. George and his canine chumlooked on expectantly, as if regretting that neither of them possessed aweapon. Now there came the clatter of hoofs, like a stampede, and theguerrillas seemed to be engaged in a wild scramble to get away. They werean intrepid party, without doubt, but the sudden volley from themysterious and darkened recesses of the woods (which might come, for allthe Southerners knew, from a whole regiment of troops) demoralized them.In another
instant they were scampering off, and the sound of the horseson the road was soon lost in the distance.

  Andrews replaced his revolver, with a little chuckle of amusement.

  "They are a daring lot to venture so near our army," he said. Then hebegan to read the letter, with the aid of a dark lantern provided by oneof his companions.

  While he is engaged in this occupation let us ask two questions. Who isAndrews, and who is George Knight? James Andrews, though a Virginian bybirth, has lived in the mountains of Kentucky for many years, and is now aspy of the Union army, in the employ of General Buell. The war is onlyfairly begun, but already more than once has the spy courted death bypenetrating into the lines of the Confederacy, in the guise of a merchant,and bringing back to the Northern forces much valuable information. He isa man of fine education and polished manners, despite his life in thewilds, and is tall, aristocratic-looking, and full of a quiet couragewhich, in his own dangerous profession, answers far better than thegreatest impetuosity. He has plenty of daring, but it is a daring temperedwith prudence. Although he has masqueraded among the enemy at times whenthe slightest slip of the tongue might have betrayed him, he has thus farreturned to the Union lines in safety. How long, some of his friends askanxiously, will he be able to continue in so perilous an enterprise? Yethere he is, planning, with the consent of General Mitchell, a schemebolder than anything yet dreamed of in the annals of the war.

  And what of George Knight? He is an active, healthy-minded drummer boybelonging to one of the Ohio regiments in General Mitchell's division. Hismother had died in his infancy. At the outbreak of the war, a year beforethe opening of our story, he was living in Cincinnati with his father. Thelatter suddenly gave up a prosperous law practice to go to the help of theNorth, secured a commission as a captain of volunteers, went to the front,and was either captured or killed by the Confederates. Since the precedingChristmas nothing had been heard of him. George, with an aching heart,stayed at home with an uncle, and chafed grievously as he saw companyafter company of militia pass through his native town on the way to theSouth. Where was his father? This he asked himself twenty times a day. Andmust he, the son, stand idly by whilst thousands of the flower of the landwere rushing forward to fight on one side or the other in the greatconflict? "I must enlist!" George had cried, more than once. "Pshaw!"replied his uncle; "you are too young--a mere child." But one fine dayGeorge Knight had himself enrolled as a drummer boy in a regiment thenbeing recruited in Cincinnati, and, as his uncle had a large family of hisown, with no very strong affection to spare for his nephew, there was notas much objection as might have been expected. So the lad went to the war.He had now become a particular _protege_ of General Mitchell, who hadtaken him into his own service as an assistant secretary--a position inwhich George had already shown much natural cleverness.

  After reading the letter just brought to him, Andrews tears it into ahundred little pieces which he scatters to the winds.

  "What's the matter?" ask several of the men, as they crowd around him.

  "Hurry's the matter," laughs the leader, as unconcernedly as if he werespeaking of nothing more dangerous than a picnic. "The General tells me wemust start at once, if we want to accomplish anything. To-morrow [Tuesday]morning he takes his army straight south to Huntsville. If he captures thetown by Friday, as he expects to do, he can move eastwards, toChattanooga. So we will do our bridge-burning and our train-stealing onFriday, before the railroad is obstructed with trains bringing Confederatereinforcements to the latter city."

  Even in the darkness one could detect the gleam in the eyes of the men asthey saw before them, with pleasure rather than fear, the risky part theywere to play in the drama of warfare. The eyes of George sparkled,likewise.

  "If I could only go with them," he thought. What was camp life compared tothe delight of such an adventure? Waggie gave a bark. Even he seemed toscent something interesting.

  "You soldiers," continued Andrews, "must break into detachments, make yourway eastward into the Cumberland Mountains, and then southward, well intothe Confederate lines. There you can take the cars, and by next Thursdaynight you must all meet me down at Marietta, Georgia. The next morningaccording to a plan which you will learn at Marietta, (which is on theGeorgia State Railroad) we will put our little ruse into effect--and mayprovidence smile on it."

  "But what will the men pretend to be while on their way down to Marietta?"asked George, who could scarce contain either his curiosity or hisenthusiasm.

  "Look here, my boy," said Andrews, in a quick though not in an unkindlyway. "I don't know that you should be hearing all this."

  Had the scene been less dark one might have seen the flush on the boy'sface.

  "I didn't think I was playing eavesdropper," he retorted.

  Andrews put his right hand on George's shoulder. "Come," he said, in aspirit of friendliness; "I didn't exactly mean that. I know you're to betrusted, from what General Mitchell has said of you. But you must keep atight rein on your tongue, and not say a syllable, even in camp, of thisexpedition. There's no reason why the whole army should be discussingit--until the thing's done. Then you can talk about it as much as youwant."

  George no longer felt offended. "You can depend on me," he said manfully."I won't even tell the General."

  At this there was a peal of laughter from the men, which seemed to beanswered, the next instant, by a blinding fork of lightning, and then afresh outburst of thunder. Andrews lifted up his hand warningly. He wasvery grave, as befitted a man on the verge of a mighty responsibility.

  "Not so loud," he protested. "You boys must impersonate Kentuckians whoare trying to get down south to join the Confederate army. A great manyfellows have gone from Kentucky to throw in their lot with theConfederacy, and if you are prudent you will have no trouble in makingpeople believe you. If any of you fall under suspicion on the way, and arearrested, you can enlist in the Confederate army, and then escape from itat the first opportunity. The Southerners are glad to get all the recruitsthey can, suspicious or otherwise. But I hope you will all reach Mariettain safety. Pray be careful of one thing. If you meet me as we aretraveling, don't recognize me unless you are sure no one is watching us.At Marietta we will contrive to meet in the hotel near the railroadstation, where I will tell you all that is to be done the next morning."

  "We have no money for the journey," interposed a young volunteer. "UncleSam doesn't pay us privates very large salaries, you know, Mr. Andrews."

  Andrews produced a large wallet from the inner pocket of his overcoat. Itwas fairly bulging with paper money.

  "I've seen to that," he explained. "Here's a whole wad of Confederatecurrency which will pay your expenses through the Southern lines." Andwith that he began to deal out the bills to the men, who hastily stowedaway the money in their own pockets.

  "Now, boys," went on the leader, "I want you to divide yourselves intoparties of three or four, so that you may travel in separate groups, andthus avoid the suspicion which might be aroused if you all went in a body.And remember! One party must have nothing to do with another."

  Thereupon, in the gloomy woods, the future spies formed themselves, astheir inclinations directed, into six parties or detachments, fourcontaining three men each, and two containing four. Andrews was to proceedsouthward alone, without an escort. Poor George Knight and Waggie appearedto be left out in the cold. George was burning to join the expedition.Even the rain which suddenly began to fall could not quench his ardor.

  "Mr. Andrews," he said, coming up close to the leader, and speaking in awhisper, "can't I go to Marietta, too?"

  Andrews peered at the boy in admiring surprise. "By Jove," he answered,"you're not afraid of danger, even if you are little more than a child.It's bad enough for grown men to risk their lives--and bad enough for meto drag them into such a position,--without getting a plucky boy into thescrape also. No! Don't ask me to do that."

  "But I won't be in any more danger in the South than I am here," pleadedGeorge. "If I stay here I may
be shot in battle, while if I go to MariettaI----"

  "If you go to Marietta, and are found out, you may be hanged as a spy,"interrupted Andrews. "I'd rather see you shot than strung up with arope."

  "The Confederates would never hang me if I am little more than a child, asyou call me," urged the lad.

  Andrews was evidently impressed by George's persistence, but he hastenedto say: "Anyway, I have no authority to send you off on this chase. Youare a member of General Mitchell's military household, and he alone couldgive you the permission."

  "Then promise me that if I get his permission you will let me go."

  The spy hesitated. He could just discern the earnest, pleading expressionin the upturned face of the boy, upon which the rain-drops were pouringalmost unnoticed.

  "Well," he said, at last, "I am going back to camp now, and I start outbefore daylight. If you can induce the General to let you accompany usbefore that time I'll make no objection."

  George gave a little exclamation of delight. "Come," he said, snapping hisfingers at Waggie, "let us see what we can do to talk the old General intoit."

  The rain was now coming down in torrents, while the sharp, almostdeafening cracks of thunder sounded as if the whole artillery of the Unionarmy were engaged in practice. Soon all the conspirators were hurryingback to camp. Andrews was the very last to leave the woods where he haddivulged his plans.

  "Heaven forgive me," he mused, half sadly, "if I am leading these boysinto a death trap." But as a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the wetlandscape, as with the brightness of day, there came into the leader'sstrong face a look of calm resolution. "It's worth all the danger," headded.

  * * * * *

  An hour later George Knight came running into the tent which Andrewsoccupied in the camp on Duck River. The leader was enveloped in a woolenovercoat, and on his well-shaped head was a slouch hat of the kindgenerally worn by Southerners. By the dim, sickly light of the candlewhich sputtered on a camp stool it could be seen that he had been writing,for pen, ink and a sealed letter were spread out upon the top of aleathern army trunk.

  "Well," cried Andrews, picking up the candle from its tin socket andflashing it in the radiant face of the boy. "Ah! No need to ask you! I seeby your dancing eyes that you have wheedled old Mitchell into allowing youto do a foolish thing."

  The smile on the lad's face vanished. "Don't you want me to go along withyou?" he asked, in an injured tone.

  The leader replaced the candle in the socket and then took one of George'shands between his own strong palms. "George," he said cordially, "you're aboy after my own heart, and I'd like nothing better than to have you for acompanion; but it's because I do like you that I'm sorry you are about torun such a risk--and that's the truth. How did you contrive to persuadethe General?"

  George seated himself on Andrews' bed, and laughed. "It was hard work atfirst," he explained, "but after he had refused me twice I said to him:'General, if you were a boy in my place, and had heard of this expedition,what would you do?' 'By all the stars,' he said, 'I would run away to itrather than miss it--and get shot afterwards as a deserter, I suppose.''Then don't put me under the temptation of running away,' said I. At thisthe General laughed. Then he said: 'Well, tell Andrews you can go--andthat I'll never forgive him if he lets anything happen to you. After all,the Confederates would never hang a child like you.'"

  "So he too calls you a child!" laughed Andrews.

  "Of course I'm not a child," cried George proudly, as he jumped from thebed and stood up very straight, to make himself look as tall as possible;"but the General may call me a six-weeks' old baby if he only lets me goalong with you."

  "There is no time to waste," announced Andrews. "In the third tent frommine, to the right, you will find Privates Macgreggor and Watson, of theSecond Ohio Volunteers. They have just offered to go with us, and I haveaccepted them in addition to the rest. Go to them, ask them to get you asuit of plain clothes, put it on instead of your uniform, and stick tothem closely from the moment you leave camp until you meet me, as I hopeyou will, at Marietta. And be particularly careful to have nothing aboutyou which could in any way lead to your identification as a Union soldierin case you should be arrested and searched."

  "Hurrah!" said George, half under his breath.

  "May we all be hurrahing this time next week," returned Andrews. "Here,George, as you go out give this letter to the sentry outside, to be sentoff to-morrow in the camp mail." As he spoke he took the sealed note fromthe army trunk, and handed it to the boy. "It is written to the youngwoman I am engaged to marry," he explained, "and if we all get out of thisbridge-burning business with our heads on our shoulders you can come danceat my wedding, and be my best man."

  "I'd dance at twenty weddings for you," enthusiastically cried George, whowas beginning to have a great admiration for his new friend.

  "You don't want me to be married twenty times, do you, my boy?" protestedAndrews, smiling.

  "I would do a great deal to oblige you," retorted George. Then, afterwarmly grasping his leader by the hand, he bounded out of the tent. Thenight was black, and the rain was still descending in a veritable torrent,but to the lad everything seemed clear and rosy. He only saw before him amighty adventure--and that, to his ardent, youthful spirit, made the wholeworld appear charming.