"
Brown took the throttle and pushed the _General_ onward toward Green's
Station. Tom put the last of the fuel in the fire, and leaned wearily
against the cab. Drops of rain, carried by the wind, splashed upon him and
ran down his body, streaking the soot which covered his chest and stomach.
His eyes met Knight's and they looked at each other dumbly, asking each
other how the the race would end. Instinctively they turned toward Andrews.
He was in the fireman's seat, hands clenched and face set, staring ahead.
He did not move until they were within sight of Green's Station.
The _General_ stopped at the wood pile and the men jumped out. The keeper
of the yard came running toward them. Andrews waved him aside.
"Throw that wood aboard, men," he said. But they had already attacked the
pile.
Then they heard repeated short blasts of a whistle to the southward. The
men paused and looked at Andrews.
"Pile it in! Hurry!" he yelled.
"Who are you?" demanded the keeper. "What's this train!"
Andrews seemed not to hear him. Four Confederate soldiers who were standing
several hundred yards away yelled and pointed in the direction of the
whistling.
"'Board," called Andrews. As he climbed into the cab of the General, Tom
saw that his face had become suddenly drawn.
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