the train. He saw nothing to excite his suspicions.
The baggage cars were closed, and might easily be filled with powder and
shot; the men in the engine, and the two brakemen on the top of one car
had a perfectly natural appearance.

"Well, you can't move on yet," he announced. "Here's a telegram saying a
local freight from the north will soon be here, and you must wait till she
comes up."

Andrews bit his lip in sheer vexation. He had reasoned that this irregular
freight train would already be at Kingston on his arrival, and he hated
the idea of a delay. The loiterers on the platform were listening eagerly
to the conversation; he felt that he was attracting too much attention.
But there was no help for it. He could not go forward on this single-track
railroad until the exasperating freight had reached the station.

"All right," he answered, endeavoring to look unconcerned, "shunt us
off."

Within three minutes the train had been shifted from the main track to a
side track, and a curious crowd had gathered around "The General."

It was a critical situation. The idlers began to ply the occupants of the
cab with a hundred questions which must be answered in some shape unless
suspicion was to be aroused--and suspicion, under such circumstances,
would mean the holding back of the train, and the failure of the
expedition.

"Where did you come from?" "How much powder have you got on board?" "Why
did you take Fuller's engine?" "Why is Beauregard in such a hurry for
ammunition?" were among the queries hurled at the defenceless heads of the
four conspirators.

George, as he gazed out upon the Kingstonians, began to feel rather
nervous. He realized that one contradictory answer, one slip of the
tongue, might spoil everything. And in this case to spoil was a verb
meaning imprisonment and ultimate death.

A dapper young man, with small, piercing eyes and a head that suggested a
large bump of self-conceit, called out: "You chaps can't reach Beauregard.
You'll run right into the Yankee forces."

"I've got my orders and I'm going to try it," doggedly answered Andrews.

"And run your ammunition right into the hands of the Yankees?" sneered the
dapper young man. "I don't see the sense in that."

An angry flush came into Andrews' cheeks. "When you have been in the
Confederate army a little while, young man, as I have," he said, "you'll
learn to obey orders and ask no questions. Why don't you go serve your
country, as other y