and walked over to the platform, Waggie following close at his heels. He
looked anxiously up the track, but he could see nothing, hear nothing.

Two young men, one of them a civilian and the other evidently a soldier
who was home on furlough (to judge by his gray uniform and right arm in a
sling), were promenading up and down, and smoking clay pipes.

"I don't understand it," the soldier was saying. "They talk about sending
powder through to General Beauregard, but it's an utter impossibility to
do it."

"You're right," said his friend. "The thing looks fishy. If these fellows
are really what they----"

"Hush," whispered the soldier. He pointed to George as he spoke. "Well,
you're beginning railroading pretty young," he added aloud, scrutinizing
the boy as if he would like to read his inmost thoughts.

"It's never too young to begin," answered the boy, carelessly.

"What is this powder train of yours, anyway?" asked the soldier, in a
wheedling voice which was meant to be plausible and friendly.

George had heard enough of the conversation between the two young
Southerners to know that they were more than curious about the supposed
powder train. And now, he thought, they would try to entrap him into some
damaging admission. He must be on his guard. He put on as stupid a look as
he could assume (which was no easy task in the case of a boy with such
intelligent features), as he replied stolidly: "Dunno. I've nothing to do
with it. I'm only fireman on the engine."

"But you know where you're going?" demanded the soldier, with a gesture of
impatience.

"Dunno."

"Who is the tall chap with the beard who has charge of the train?"

"Dunno."

"How much powder have you got on board?"

"Dunno."

"I don't suppose you even know your own name, you little idiot!" cried the
soldier. "The boy hasn't got good sense," he said, turning to his friend.

"You were never more mistaken in your life," answered his friend. "He's
only playing a game. I know something about faces--and this boy here has
lots of sense."

George called Waggie, put the animal in his pocket, and walked to the door
of the little station without taking any notice of this compliment to his
sagacity. Under the circumstances he should have preferred the deepest
insult. He felt that a long detention at Adairsville would be dangerous,
perhaps fatal.

Opening the door, the boy entered the station. It comprised a cheerless
waiting-room, with a stove, bench