Andrews, sitting in the fireman's seat, was leaning from the window,
glancing first ahead and then back. Except for that first shout of triumph,
he had been calm and deliberate.

"Enough for now," shouted Brown. "Rest!"

Tom, panting and weak, climbed up beside Andrews and put his head out so
that the cool wind would strike it. The violent effort of dragging those
logs from the tender to the fire-box, together with the heat that played
upon him each time, had made his legs seem like jelly beneath him. But the
cool air revived him, and he watched Brown constantly for the signal that
more wood was needed. Once he looked back and saw Shadrack leaning from the
door of the boxcar. They waved excitedly to each other.

"Stop!" yelled Andrews to Knight.

Brown repeated the order. Knight, aroused from his intense purpose of
forcing the last ounce of speed out of the _General_, shut the throttle.
Brown gave the whistle a blast, and began twisting at the brake. Gradually
the train lost its speed. The men in the box-car leaned from the door,
asking why they were stopping.

"Come up here," yelled Andrews. "One of you men climb that telegraph pole
and knock the insulating cap off. Then break the wire."

A little fellow named Scott scrambled up the pole. Telegraph communications
were broken ahead of them.

"There's no telegraph station at Big Shanty," explained Andrews. "The best