Chasing an Iron Horse Part 26

All but one of the Confederates halted, upon seeing the apparent success of their aim, and turned to pursue in a new direction. The remaining soldier came running up to the two prisoners, and after taking one look which convinced him that they were either dead or dying he scurried back to rejoin his detachment. There was no use in wasting time over corpses when living enemies remained to be caught.

The "corpses" waited until all was quiet around them. Then they arose, and kept on towards the woods. These they reached when darkness had fallen upon the trees--a circ.u.mstance which aided them in one way, as it lessened the danger of pursuit. But in another way the night impeded their progress for they could not get their bearings. They groped from tree to tree, and from bush to bush, like blind men. Once they heard a great rustling, and were convinced that it was caused by some of their companions, but they dared not speak, for fear of a mistake. At last they stumbled out upon a deserted highroad.

"Where are we?" whispered George.

"I don't know," returned Watson. "Hark! Do you hear anything?"

A sound, at first very faint, became more and more distinct as they listened. Galloping hors.e.m.e.n and the rattle of sabres proclaimed the approach of cavalry.

"Back into the woods," urged Watson. "We may be putting ourselves in a trap--but for the life of me I don't know where else to go!"

They hurried into the wood, where they crawled under a scrubby pine bush, and anxiously awaited the outcome. On rushed the hors.e.m.e.n until they reached the outskirts of the wood. Here they halted. The hiders under the pine bush could hear one of the officers say: "The infantry will soon be here to relieve us."

"We've had a great time to-night," growled another officer. "These Yankees, not content with troubling us on the battle-field, must even stir things up when they are prisoners."

"I don't wonder those locomotive-stealers wanted to escape," laughed the first officer. "They know what the punishment of a spy always is."

In a few minutes a company of infantry marched to the scene. After a short conference between their officers and those of the cavalry the hors.e.m.e.n galloped away. The infantry were now formed into squads, and sent to keep guard in the woods.

"Things are getting rather warm!" whispered Watson. George murmured an a.s.sent. Well might he do so, for a sentry had soon been posted within fifty feet of the two fugitives. The situation was fraught with the greatest danger. Watson and George realized that the soldiers would patrol the woods until morning, when discovery would be inevitable.

Watson sank his voice so low that it could just be heard by his companion.

"We can't afford to stay here until daylight," he whispered. "We must wriggle out of here until we come to the edge of the road. Then we must make a break and run."

"Run where?" asked George.

"Providence alone knows," answered Watson. "We must trust to chance. But anything is better than remaining here, to be caught like rabbits by dogs."

"I'm ready," replied George. He already saw himself back in the Atlanta prison, and he even pictured himself with a rope around his neck; but he was prepared for any adventure, whatever might be the result.

"The sooner the better," whispered Watson. Without any more words the two began to wriggle along the ground and kept up this snake-like motion until they reached the edge of the wood. It was slow work and very tiresome, but it was their one chance of escape. Then they stood up, and bounded across the highroad.

"There they go!" shouted one of the soldiers in the wood. At once there was an uproar, as the sentries ran out into the road, and began to fire their guns in wild confusion. It was pitch dark, and they could see nothing. Over the road and into an open field tore the two fugitives. They felt like blind men, for they could hardly distinguish any object before them; moreover they were wholly ignorant of their surroundings. They ran on, however, and finally reached another field in which were several large trees. Watson made straight for one of them.

"Up we go," he said, and, suiting the action to the order, he had soon clambered up the tree, and seated himself across one of its branches.

George was quick to follow; he climbed up with even more celerity than Watson, and settled himself on a neighboring branch.

They could hear the cries of the sentries, mingled with an occasional shot. Two of the soldiers pa.s.sed directly under the tree occupied by the Northerners.

"They have gotten off," one of them was saying.

"I'm not surprised," rejoined the other sentry. "Any fellows who could do what they did at Big Shanty are not easy customers to deal with."

In a little while the two sentries returned, and, again pa.s.sing under the tree, evidently went back to the woods. The uproar had ceased; there was no more firing; it was plain that the chase had been abandoned.

After the lapse of half an hour Watson and George descended from their uncomfortable perches. Once upon the ground the boy released Waggie from his pocket, and the little party pushed on in the darkness for about a mile. Here they found a hayrick in a field, alongside of which they laid their weary bones and slept the sleep of exhaustion. When daylight came they had awakened, feeling much refreshed and ready for more adventures.

"I'll tell you what I think," said Watson. "There's a chance for us yet, provided we try a new means of getting away from the South."

"What do you mean?" asked George.

"If we try to move northward," continued Watson, "we are sure to be caught. Every countryman between Atlanta and Chattanooga will be on the lookout for us. Instead of that, let us strike out towards the Gulf of Mexico, where we should reach one of the ships of the Union blockading squadron. New Orleans is in the hands of the North, and many of our vessels must be patroling the Gulf. Once we reach the coast we are practically free."

"The very thing!" cried the boy. "You're a genius!"

Watson smiled.

"Not a genius," he said, "but I have what they call horse-sense up our way--and I'm not anxious to return to the delights of the Atlanta prison."

Acting upon this new theory the wanderers began their long journey. This they pursued amid many hardships, not the least of which was hunger. Even poor Waggie grew emaciated. First they reached the banks of the Chattahoochee River, after which they secured a boat and rowed their way down via the Apalachicola River, to Apalachicola, Florida, on the Gulf of Mexico. Here they found, to their great delight, that a Federal blockading squadron was patroling on the Gulf, near the mouth of Apalachicola Bay.

The two fugitives now pushed their little boat out into the open sea. They were a sorry looking couple, with their old clothes fairly dropping from them, and their thin, gaunt figures showing the consequences of many days of privation. Watson was feverish, with an unnatural glitter in his eyes, while George's face was a sickly white. Waggie reposed at the bottom of the rickety craft, as if he cared not whether he lived or died.

"Look!" cried Watson, who was at the oars. He pointed out towards the south, where were to be seen a collection of masts and smoke-stacks, rising above long black hulls.

"It's the Federal fleet," said George. He was glad to have a look at it--glad to know that deliverance was at hand--but he felt too exhausted to put any enthusiasm into his voice.

"Can you see any flag?" he asked, wearily. "Perhaps we have been fooled after all. The ships may belong to the Confederate navy."

Soon they could detect, as they drew nearer, a flutter of bunting from the vessel nearest to them.

"It's the old flag!" cried George, jumping from his seat in the stern with a precipitancy that threatened to upset the boat. "See the blue--and the red and white stripes! Hurrah!" But he was too weak for much enthusiasm even now and he soon had to sit down once more.

Watson uttered a cry which was meant to be triumphant, although it came like a hoa.r.s.e croak from his parched throat. Then the tears gushed into his eyes as he gazed again upon the flag. It almost seemed as if he were home again.

Nearer and nearer they rowed to the squadron. There were four ships of war, and now they could see the sailors walking the decks and the guns in the portholes.

"We'll be there in ten minutes now," said Watson, "and I think I can eat a----" He gasped and failed to finish the sentence. He half rose from his seat, relinquished the oars, with a despairing cry, and then, losing all consciousness, pitched over the gunwale into the sunlit waters of the Gulf.

George jumped up from the stern and stretched out his arm to seize the inanimate body of his friend. But the movement was too much for the equilibrium of the frail boat and for the balance of the boy. Out into the water shot George, overturning the craft until its keel was in the air.

George struck out for Watson and succeeded in grabbing him by the hair of his head just as he was about to disappear beneath the waves. Then he changed his hold upon the man, and with his left hand clutching the neck of Watson's coat he pulled to the side of the upturned boat. To this he held with his right hand like grim death, as he put his left arm around Watson's waist. The boy was panting for breath, and as weak as if he had been swimming for miles. Not until now had he thoroughly realized how hunger, exposure and privation had done their work. The next instant he felt a gentle paddling near him; he looked down and there was Waggie's wet but plucky little face.

"h.e.l.lo! old boy," said George. "I would rather drown myself than see you go under. So here goes!"

He released his hold of Watson and by a quick movement swung Waggie to the upturned bottom of the boat, near the keel. The tiny animal gave a bark that said "Thank you," as plainly as if he had spelled out every letter of the two words. George again seized Watson and clung to the boat more tightly than before. The soldier gradually came back to consciousness.

"What have I done?" he asked, staring wildly at the hot sun above him.

"Nothing!" answered George. "Only try to hold on to the boat. For I'm so worn out that it's all I can do to keep myself up."

Watson clawed frantically at the gunwale. At last he managed to grasp it with his tired, bony fingers.

"I can't hold on much longer!" suddenly said George, in a faint voice. His hands were numb; he felt as if he had not one particle of strength left in his emaciated body. His mind began to wander. He forgot that he was in the Gulf of Mexico; he thought he was holding on to a horse. By and by the horse began to move. Could he keep his grasp on the animal? No; not much longer. The horse started to canter, and the boy felt himself slipping backward. In reality he had let go his hold upon the boat. So, too, had Watson. The next moment was a blank. The sun came burning down on poor Waggie, perched on top of the craft, as he growled piteously at the sight of master and friend drifting helplessly away.