South, and ... well, we were simply going to do it."

"The railroad between Atlanta and Chattanooga?" asked Tom.

"You've guessed it, but, on your life, don't breathe a word of it."

Tom's eyes opened wide. "Never! And aren't they going to do it now! Just
because you're ankle is broken?"

"They'll do it, all right," answered Bert. "I'm not that important. There's
only one man who is so important that they have to have him."

"And who's that?"

"The leader--the man who planned it. He knows the country." Bert folded the
map and put it back in his knapsack.

"I'm sorry about your ankle," Tom said weakly. "With a chance like that!"
He whistled, and leaned back, with his hands clasped around a knee, gazing
steadfastly at the roof of the tent. Bert rested his chin in his hands and
sat silently, looking at him. Tom's eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened
until they were white.

"Bert...." he began, then stopped.

"Yes?"

Their eyes met. Tom leaned forward and clutched his cousin's arm. "Do you
think, Bert, that Captain Moffat would let me go in your place?"