As they threaded their way through the crowd at the station, Tom caught the
first intimation of Mitchel's drive upon Huntsville. "The train is
jam-full," a man was saying. "There isn't a seat left. All those soldiers
who went through here this morning are being sent back."

"Why is that?" asked his companion.

"They don't seem to know," the man continued. "They got as far as
Stevenson--that's a little place down the line about thirty miles--and then
they received orders to go back. They're to join Beauregard at Corinth as
fast as they can by the way of Atlanta and Meridian."

"Hm-m-m, that's strange!"

"Perhaps there's a wreck between here and Corinth."

Tom whispered the news to Brown and Dorsey after they were aboard the
train. They exchanged glances.

It was ten o'clock that night when the brakeman of the train called,
"Marietta!" Dorsey was asleep on the coal box of the car, while Tom and
Brown dozed against the door. They had taken turns at the coal box for
eight hours. Now they moved stiffly out to the platform, relieved that the
journey had ended. For several minutes they waited at the station, slowly
circulating among the people to see if they could recognize any other
members of the expedition.

"I guess we're the only ones here," said Tom.

"Looks that way," replied Brown. "Let's go to the hotel."