Chasing an Iron Horse Part 8

The men groaned in spirit. "It's too late," muttered Jenks. He could picture the arrival at Marietta of all the members of the expedition save his own party, and the triumphal railroad escapade the next day. And when the Northern newspapers would ring with the account of the affair, his own name would not appear in the list of the brave adventurers.

Suddenly George went up to the ferryman, and said, with much distinctness: "I see we have to do with a coward! There's not a boatman in Kentucky who wouldn't take us across this river. Even a Yankee wouldn't fear it. But you are so afraid you'll have to get your feet wet that you actually send for soldiers to protect you!"

George's companions looked at him in astonishment. The boatman, losing his placidity, turned a deep red. "Take care, young fellow," he said, in a voice of anger; "there's not a man in Tennessee who dares to call Ned Jackson a coward!"

"I dare to call you a coward unless you take us over to Chattanooga!"

answered the boy, st.u.r.dily. "You're afraid--and that's the whole truth!"

Jackson's face now underwent a kaleidoscopic transformation ranging all the way from red to purple, and then to white. All his stolidity had vanished; he was no longer the slow countryman; he had become the courageous, impetuous Southerner.

"If you weren't a boy," he shouted, "I'd knock you down!"

"That wouldn't prove your bravery," returned George, regarding him with an expression of well-feigned contempt. "That would only show you to be a bully. If you have any courage in your veins--the kind of courage that most Southerners have--prove it by taking us across the river."

The soldiers were gradually drawing near the wharf. Meanwhile George's companions had caught his cue. He was trying to goad Jackson into ferrying them over the riotous stream.

"Humph!" said Macgreggor; "a good boatman is never afraid of the water; but our friend here seems to have a consuming fear of it!"

"He ought to live on a farm, where there is nothing but a duck pond in the shape of water," added Jenks. Jackson was actually trembling with rage; his hands were twisting nervously.

Watson eyed him with seeming pity, as he said: "It's a lucky thing for you that you didn't enlist in the Confederate army. You would have run at the first smell of gunpowder!"

Jackson could contain his wrath no longer. "So you fellows think I'm a coward," he cried. "Very well! I'll prove that I'm not! Get into my boat, and I'll take you across--or drown you all and myself--I don't care which.

But no man shall ever say that Ned Jackson is a coward!" He ran to the boat, leaped into it and beckoned to the Northerners. "Come on!" he shouted. Within a minute George, Macgreggor, Watson and Jenks were in the little craft, and the ferryman had unmoored it from the wharf.

"Never mind," he cried, waving his hand to the soldiers, who had now reached the wharf. "I don't want you. I'm going to ferry 'em over the river--or go to the bottom! It's all right."

Already were the voyagers in midstream, almost before they knew it. It looked as if Jackson, in his attempt to prove his courage, might only end by sending them all to the bottom. Waggie, who was now reposing in a pocket of George's coat, suddenly gave a low growl. George produced from another pocket a bone which he had brought from Mrs. Page's house, and gave it to the dog.

"Well," laughed Watson, in unconcern, "if Wag's to be drowned, he'll be drowned on a full stomach--and that's one consolation."

"He's the only critter among you as has got any sense," snarled the ferryman; "for he's the only one who didn't ask to be taken across this infarnal river!"

CHAPTER IV

PLOT AND PLOTTERS

In after years George could never quite understand how he and his companions reached the Chattanooga sh.o.r.e. He retained a vivid recollection of tempestuous waves, of a boat buffeted here and there, and of Ned Jackson muttering all manner of unkind things at his pa.s.sengers and the turbulent stream. They did at last reach their destination, and bade farewell to the ferryman, whom they loaded down with Confederate notes.

No sooner was the latter embarked on the return voyage than Watson said: "That was a clever ruse of yours, George. That Jackson was a brave man at heart, and you put him on his mettle. He wanted to show us that he wasn't afraid of the water--and he succeeded."

George laughed. He explained that it was a remark of his father's which had put the idea into his own head, and then he wondered where that same father could be. Was he dead or was he still living, perhaps in some prison?

It was not long before the party reached the railroad station at Chattanooga. Here they purchased their tickets for Marietta, and were soon in the train bound southward for the latter place. The sun had nearly set as the engine pulled slowly out of the depot. The car in which they sat was filled with men on their way down South, some of them being soldiers in uniform and the rest civilians. Macgreggor, Watson and Jenks were at the rear end of the car, while George had to find a seat at the other end, next to a very thin man who wore the uniform of a Confederate captain.

"Isn't it strange?" thought the boy. "To-morrow morning we will be reversing our journey on this railroad, and burning bridges on our way back to Chattanooga. But how are we to steal a train? I wonder if Andrews and the rest of the party will be on hand to-night at Marietta." Then, as he realized that he was in a car filled with men who would treat him as a spy, if they knew the nature of his errand to the South, there came over him a great wave of homesickness. He had lived all his life among friends; it was for him a new sensation to feel that he was secretly opposed to his fellow-travelers.

The thin Captain who sat next to him turned and curiously regarded Waggie, who was lying on his master's lap. He had shrewd gray eyes, had this Captain, and there was a week's growth of beard upon his weazened face.

"Where did you get your dog from, lad?" he asked, giving Waggie a pat with one of his skeleton-like hands. It was a pat to which the little animal paid no attention.

"From home--Cincinnati."

George had answered on the spur of the moment, thoughtlessly, carelessly, before he had a chance to detect what a blunder he was making. The next second he could have bitten out his tongue in very vexation; he felt that his face was burning a bright red; he had a choking sensation at the throat.

The emaciated Captain was staring at him in a curiously surprised fashion.

"From Cincinnati? Cincinnati, Ohio?" he asked, fixing his lynx-like eyes attentively upon his companion.

Poor George! Every idea seemed to have left him in his sudden confusion; he was only conscious that the Confederate officer continued to regard him in the same intent manner. "I say," repeated the latter, "is your home in Ohio?"

"Yes, Cincinnati, Ohio," said the boy boldly. "After all," as he thought, "I had better put a frank face on this stupidity of mine; a stammering answer will only make this fellow the more suspicious."

"So then you're a Northerner, are you, my son?" observed the Captain. "I thought you spoke with a bit of a Yankee accent!"

"Yes, I'm a Northerner," answered George. As he felt himself plunging deeper and deeper into hot water he was trying to devise some plausible story to tell the officer. But how to invent one while he was being subjected to that close scrutiny. One thing, at least, was certain. Once he had admitted that his home was in Ohio he could not make any use of the oft repeated Kentucky yarn.

"And what are you doing down here?" asked the Captain. He spoke very quietly, but there was an inflection in his voice which seemed to say: "Give a good account of yourself--for your presence in this part of the country is curious, if nothing more."

George understood that he must think quickly, and decide on some plan of action to cover up, if he could, any bad results from his blunder. He was once more cool, and he returned the piercing look of the officer with steadfast eyes. His mind was clear as to one thing. There was no need of his trying to invent a story, on the spur of the moment, with a man like the Captain quite ready to pick it to pieces. For it was plain that this Confederate was shrewd--and a trifle suspicious. The boy must pursue a different course.

"My being down South is my own concern," he said, pretending to be virtuously offended at the curiosity of his inquisitor.

The Captain drew himself up with an injured air. "Heigh ho!" he muttered; "my young infant wants me to mind my own business, eh?"

George flushed; he considered himself very much of a man, and he did not relish being called an "infant." But he kept his temper; he foresaw that everything depended upon his remaining cool. He treated the remark with contemptuous silence.

The officer turned away from him, to look out of the window of the car.

Yet it was evident that he paid little or no attention to the rapidly moving landscape. He was thinking hard. Not a word was spoken between the two for ten minutes. Most of the other pa.s.sengers were talking excitedly among themselves. Occasionally a remark could be understood above the rattle of the train. George heard enough to know they were discussing the battle of Shiloh, which had been fought so recently.

"I tell you," cried a soldier, "the battle was a great Confederate victory."

"That may be," answered some one, "but if we have many more such victories we Southerners will have a lost cause on our hands, and Abe Lincoln will be eating his supper in Richmond before many months are gone."

At this there was a chorus of angry dissent, and several cries of "Traitor!" George listened eagerly. He would dearly have liked to look behind him, to see what his three companions were doing, or hear what they were saying, at the other end of the car. But he was not supposed to know them. He could only surmise (correctly enough, as it happened) that they were acting their part of Southerners, although doing as little as possible to attract attention. One thing worried the young adventurer. He distrusted the continued silence of the Captain.

It was a silence that the officer finally broke, by looking squarely into George's face, and saying, in a low tone: "When a Northerner travels down South these times he must give an account of himself. If you won't tell me who you are, my friend, I may find means of making you!"

As he spoke the train was slowing up, and in another minute it had stopped at a little station.

"Now or never," thought George. He arose, stuffed Waggie into his pocket, and said to the Captain: "If you want to find out about me, write me. This is my station. Good-bye!"

The next instant he had stepped out of the car, and was on the platform.

He and an elderly lady were the only two pa.s.sengers who alighted. No sooner had they touched the platform than the train moved on its way, leaving the Captain in a state of angry surprise, as he wondered whether he should not have made some effort to detain the boy. It was too late to do anything now, and the officer, as he is carried away on the train, is likewise carried out of our story.

What were the feelings of Watson, and Jenks, and Macgreggor as they saw George leave the car, and the train rattled away? They were afraid to make any sign; and even if they had thought it prudent to call out to the lad, or seek to detain him, they would not have found time to put their purpose into execution, so quickly had the whole thing happened. Not daring to utter a sound, they could only look at one another in blank amazement.