At this there was a chorus of angry dissent, and several cries of "Traitor!" George listened eagerly. He would dearly have liked to look behind him, to see what his three companions were doing, or hear what they were saying, at the other end of the car. But he was not supposed to know them. He could only surmise (correctly enough, as it happened) that they were acting their part of Southerners, although doing as little as possible to attract attention. One thing worried the young adventurer. He distrusted the continued silence of the Captain. It was a silence that the officer finally broke, by looking squarely into George's face, and saying, in a low tone: "When a Northerner travels down South these times he must give an account of himself. If you won't tell me who you are, my friend, I may find means of making you!" As he spoke the train was slowing up, and in another minute it had stopped at a little station. "Now or never," thought George. He arose, stuffed Waggie into his pocket, and said to the Captain: "If you want to find out about me, write me. This is my station. Good-bye!" The next instant he had stepped out of the car, and was on the platform. He and an elderly lady were the only two passengers who alighted. No sooner had they touched the platform than the train moved on its way, leaving the Captain in a state of angry surprise, as he wondered whether he should not have made some effort to detain the boy. It was too late to do anything now, and the officer, as he is carried away on the train, is likewise carried out of our story.