His eyes met Shadrack's and, mindful of Andrews' warning, he turned away
before he laughed outright. Shadrack's expression was comical: his eyes
were wide and he was gazing about him apprehensively, yet still with that
twinkle of amusement.

"'Board--'board," cried the conductor.

Tom could hear the rapid puffing of the engine as the wheels slipped on the
wet rails; then the puffing became more laborious. There was a rattle of
loose couplings, and the train jerked forward. It was lighter now. To the
west, the Kennesaw Mountains made a splotch of black against the dark blue
sky, and the houses and woods along the track were visible in the half
light.

The train gathered speed, then settled down to a steady pace. The smoke
from the engine drifted back to them. The forward door of the car opened
and the conductor entered. He stood for a moment looking down the length of
the car, then commenced to take tickets, scrutinizing each passenger
closely. The conductor was a young man--about twenty-six--and the men of
Andrews' party found his gaze disturbing. Tom met his eyes, and wondered if
he knew anything of their purpose, suspected anything.

"I don't like the looks of that conductor," he whispered to Brown.

"Probably wondering why so many people got aboard at Marietta."

Andrews arose, as though to stretch, but Tom could see that he was watching
the conductor. At last they heard the rear door of the car slam. The
conductor had not stopped to ask questions, regardless of what he
suspected.