Chasing an Iron Horse Part 18

The fact was that General Mitch.e.l.l, after capturing Huntsville on April the 11th, had moved into the country to the northeastward until he came within thirty miles of Chattanooga. At this point he waited, hoping to hear that Andrews and his companions had destroyed the railroad communications from Chattanooga. No such news reached him, however; he feared that the party had failed, and he was unable to advance farther, under the circ.u.mstances, without receiving reinforcements. But of all this Watson was ignorant.

The man and boy stole out of the wet woods, and thence a short distance to the westward until they reached the bottom of a steep hill which was surmounted by some straggling oaks. They started to walk briskly up the incline, followed by Waggie. Suddenly they heard a sound that instinctively sent a chill running up and down George's spine.

"What's that?" he asked. "Some animal?"

Watson gave a grim, unpleasant laugh. "It's a hound," he answered. "Come on; we don't want that sort of gentleman after us. He'd be a rougher animal to handle than Waggie."

George redoubled his pace. But his steps began to lag; his brain was in a whirl; he began to feel as if he was acting a part in some horrible dream.

Nothing about him seemed real; it was as if his sensations were those of another person.

"Anything wrong?" asked Watson, as he saw that the lad was falling behind him.

"Nothing; I'm coming," was the plucky answer. But fatigue and hunger, and exposure to the rain, had done their work. George tottered, clutched at the air, and then sank on the hillside, inert and unconscious. In a moment Waggie was licking his face, with a pathetic expression of inquiry in his little brown eyes, and Watson was bending over him. Again came the bay from the hound and the distant cry from a human voice.

CHAPTER VIII

TWO WEARY WANDERERS

"Poor boy," muttered Watson. "He is done out." He saw that George's collapse was due to a fainting spell, which in itself was nothing dangerous. But when he heard the distant baying of the dog, and heard, too, the voices of men--no doubt some of the armed Southerners from the pursuing train--he saw the peril that encompa.s.sed both himself and the boy. Here they were almost on top of a hill, near the enemy, and with no means of escape should they be unfortunate enough to be seen by the Southerners or tracked by the hound. If George could be gotten at once to the other side of the hill he would be screened from view--otherwise he and Watson would soon----But the soldier did not stop to think what might happen. He jumped quickly to his feet, seized the unconscious George, and ran with him, as one might have run with some helpless infant, to the top of the hill, and then down on the other side. Waggie came barking after them; he seemed to ask why it was that his master had gone to sleep in this sudden fas.h.i.+on. Watson paused for a few seconds at the bottom of the hill, and placed his burden on the wet gra.s.s. There was as yet no sign of returning life. Once more came that uncanny bay. The man again took George in his arms.

"We can't stay here," he said. He himself was ready to drop from the fatigue and excitement of the day, but hope of escape gave him strength, and he ran on through an open field until he reached some bottom-land covered by a few unhealthy-looking pine-trees. Here he paused, panting almost as hard as the poor vanished "General" had done in the last stages of its journey. He next deposited his charge on the sodden earth. They were both still in imminent danger of pursuit, but for the time being they were screened from view.

Watson bent tenderly over the boy, whilst Waggie pulled at his sleeve as he had been accustomed to do far away at home when he wanted to wake up his master. George finally opened his eyes and looked around him, first dreamily, then with a startled air.

"It's all right, my lad," whispered Watson cheerily. "You only fainted away, just for variety, but now you are chipper enough again."

George stretched his arms, raised himself to a sitting posture, and then sank back wearily on the ground.

"I'm so tired," he said. "Can't I go to sleep?" He was utterly weary; he cared not if a whole army of men and dogs was after him; his one idea was rest--rest.

"This won't do," said Watson firmly. "We can't stay here." He produced from his pocket a little flask, poured some of the contents down the boy's throat, and then took a liberal drink himself. George began to revive, as he asked how he had been brought to his present resting-place.

"In my arms," exclaimed Watson. "But I can't keep that sort of thing up forever. We must get away from here. Every moment is precious."

As if to emphasize the truth of this warning, the baying of the dog and the cries of men began to sound nearer. Watson sprang to his feet. The increase of the danger gave him new nerve; he no longer looked the tired, haggard man of five minutes ago.

"We can't stay here," he said, calmly but impressively; "it would be certain capture!"

George was up in an instant. The draught from the flask had invested him with new vigor.

"Where shall we go?" he asked. "I'm all right again."

"To the river," answered Watson. He pointed eagerly to the right of the pines, where they could see, in the darkening light of the afternoon, a swollen stream rus.h.i.+ng madly past. It might originally have been a small river, but now, owing to the spring rains and freshets, it looked turbulent and dangerous. It was difficult to cross, yet for that very reason it would make a barrier between pursued and pursuers. Should the former try the experiment?

"Can you swim?" asked Watson.

"Yes."

"Then we'll risk it. After all, the water's safer for us than the land."

Out through the pines they ran until they were at the water's edge. The sight was not encouraging. The river foamed like an angry ocean, and a strong current was sweeping down to the northward.

The soldier looked at the boy in kindly anxiety. "The water is a little treacherous, George," he said. "Do you think you're strong enough to venture across?"

"Of course I am!" answered George, proudly. He felt more like himself now; he even betrayed a mild indignation at the doubts of his friend.

"Well," began Watson, "we had--but listen! By Jove, those rascals have discovered us! They're making this way!"

It was true; the barking of the dog and the sound of many voices came nearer and nearer. Waggie began to growl fiercely, quite as if he were large enough to try a bout with a whole Confederate regiment.

"Take off your shoes, George," cried Watson. "Your coat and vest, too."

Both the fugitives divested themselves of boots, coats and vests; their hats they had already lost in their flight from "The General." In their trousers pockets they stuffed their watches and some Confederate money.

A sudden thought crossed George's mind. It was a painful thought.

"What's to become of Waggie?" he asked. "I can't leave him here." He would as soon have left a dear relative stranded on the bank of the river.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave him," said Watson.

"I can't," replied George. There was a second's pause--but it seemed like the suspense of an hour. Then the lad had a lucky inspiration. He leaned down and drew from a side pocket of his discarded coat a roll of strong cord which had been used when he climbed the telegraph poles. Pulling a knife from a pocket in his trousers he cut a piece of the cord about two yards in length, tied one end around his waist and attached the other end to Waggie's collar. The next instant he had plunged into the icy water, dragging the dog in after him. Watson followed, and struck out into the torrent with the vigor of an athlete.

George found at once that his work meant something more than keeping himself afloat. The current was rapid, and it required all his power to keep from being carried down the river like a helpless log. Waggie was sputtering and pawing the water in his master's wake.

"Keep going," shouted Watson. "This current's no joke!" Even he was having no child's play.

Just then George had his mouth full of water; he could only go on battling manfully. But he began to feel a great weakness. Was he about to faint again? He dared not think of it. There was a loosening of the cord around his waist. He looked to his left and there was Waggie floating down the stream like a tiny piece of wood. His head had slipped from his collar.

Watson tried to grab the dog as he floated by, but it was too late. He might as well have tried to change the tide.

"Go on, George, go on!" he urged, breathlessly. The boy struggled onward, but he had already overtaxed his strength. He became dizzy; his arms and legs refused to work.

"What's the matter?" sputtered his companion, who was now alongside of him.

"Go on; don't mind me," said George, in a choking voice.

"Put your hand on my belt," sternly commanded Watson. The young swimmer obeyed, scarcely knowing what he did. Watson kept on like a giant fish, sometimes in danger of being swept away, and sometimes drawing a few feet nearer to the opposite bank.

The next thing that George knew was when he found himself lying on the river's edge. Watson was peering at him anxiously.

"That's right; open your eyes," he said. "We had a narrow escape, but we're over the river at last. I just got you over in time, for when we neared sh.o.r.e you let go of me, and I had to pull you in by the hair of your head."