rd, between Marietta and
Chattanooga.

Soon the train was sweeping up to the platform. It was a long one, with
locomotive, tender, three baggage cars and a number of passenger cars. The
adventurers clambered on it through various doors, but at last reached the
passenger car nearest to the engine. Here they seated themselves quite as
if each man had no knowledge of any one else. In another minute the train,
which was well filled, went rolling away from Marietta and along the bend
around the foot of Kenesaw Mountain. "Only eight miles," thought George,
"and then----"

The conductor of the train, a young man with a very intelligent face,
looked searchingly at the boy as he examined his ticket. "Too young,"
George heard him mutter under his breath, as he passed on to the other
passengers.

A thrill of feverish excitement stirred the lad. "What did he mean by too
young?" he asked himself. "Can he possibly have gotten wind of our
expedition?" But the conductor did not return, and it was not until long
afterwards that George was able to understand what was meant by the
expression, "Too young." The man had been warned by the Confederate
authorities that a number of young Southerners who had been conscripted
into the army were trying to escape from service, and might use the cars
for that purpose. He was ordered, therefore, to arrest any such runaways
that he might find. When he looked at George it is probable that he
thought: "This boy is too young to be a conscript," and he evidently gave
unconscious voice to what was passing through his mind. Fortunately
enough, he saw nothing suspicious in any of the Northerners.

The train ran rather slowly, so that it was bright daylight before it
reached Big Shanty. "Big Shanty; twenty minutes for breakfast!" shouted
the conductor and the brakemen. George's heart beat so fast that he almost
feared some one would hear it, and ask him what was the matter. The hoarse
cries of the employees as they announced the name of the station made him
realize that now, after all these hours of preparation and preliminary
danger, the first act of his drama of war had begun. Every one of his
companions experienced the same feeling, but, like him, none had any
desire to draw back.

No sooner had the cars come to a standstill than nearly all the
passengers, excepting the Northerners, quickly left their seats, to repair
to the long, low shanty or eating-room from which the station took its
unpoetic nam