An old man, with snow-white hair and beard, cried out: "Is that dog in the car part of your ammunition?" His companions laughed at the witticism. For once Andrews was nonplused. George came bravely to the rescue. "It's a dog in a box," he said, "and it's a present to General Beauregard." "Well, I hopes the purp won't be blown up," remarked the old man. There was another titter, but the story was believed. "Things are getting a little too warm here," Andrews whispered to George. As the words left his lips he heard the screeching of a locomotive. "It's the freight!" he cried. It was, indeed, the longed-for freight train; puffing laboriously, it came up to the station and was quickly switched off to a siding. "Now we can get rid of these inquisitive hayseeds," said Andrews. "Look," cried George; "I see a red flag!" He pointed to the rear platform of the end freight car, from which was suspended a piece of red bunting. Andrews stamped his foot and indulged in some forcible language. He knew that the flag indicated the presence of another train back of the freight. Andrews was out of the cab like a flash. "What does this red flag mean?" he demanded of the conductor of the freight train, who was about to cross the tracks to enter the station. "What does _what_ mean?" asked the conductor, in a tone of mild surprise. "Why is the road blocked up behind you?" asked the leader. Had he been the President of the Southern Confederacy he could not have spoken more imperiously. "I have a special train with orders to take a load of powder to General Beauregard without delay! And here I find my way stopped by miserable freight trains which are not a quarter as important as my three cars of ammunition." "I'm sorry, sir," explained the conductor, "but it ain't my fault. Fact is, Mitchell, the Yankee General, has captured Huntsville, and we're moving everything we can out of Chattanooga, because it's said he is marching for there. We have had to split this freight up into two sections--and t'other section is a few miles behind. Don't worry. It'll be here soon. But, look here, sir! You'll never be able to reach Beauregard. General Mitchell will get you long before you are near Corinth." "Pooh!" replied Andrews. "Mitchell may have taken Huntsville, but he can't stay there. Beauregard has, no doubt, sent him flying by this time. And, anyway, I'm bound to obey orders from Richmond, come what may." "I wish you luck, sir," said the freight conductor, who was impressed by the authoritative bearing of Andrews, and believed the spy to be some Confederate officer of high rank. The leader returned to the cab. It was still surrounded by the curious idlers. "This is what I call pretty bad railroad management," he grumbled, loud enough to be heard by the Kingstonians. "This line should be kept clear when it's necessary to get army supplies quickly from place to place. What are fifty freight trains compared to powder for the troops?"