And there, not more than a mile in front of him, was "The General"! He saw the engine and the three baggage cars, and his heart bounded at the welcome sight. Then he espied the men working on the track, and saw them, later, as they rapidly boarded their train. The Southerners in the tender of "The Texas" cheered, and held firmly to their rifles. At any second now might their weapons be needed in a fight at close quarters. Of the chase from this point to Dalton we already know. Before Fuller reached that station he knew that it would be possible to send a telegram to Chattanooga, by way of Cleveland, even if the Northerners should cut the wires on the main line. "Here," he said to the young telegraph operator, "I want you to send a telegram to General Leadbetter, commanding general at Chattanooga, as soon as we get to Dalton. Put it through both ways if you can, but by the Cleveland line at any rate." The conductor took a paper from his wallet and wrote a few words of warning to General Leadbetter, telling him not to let "The General" and its crew get past Chattanooga. "My train was captured this morning at Big Shanty, evidently by Federal soldiers in disguise," he penciled. On the arrival at Dalton this telegram was sent, exactly as the shrewd Andrews had prophesied. Then "The Texas" fled away from Dalton and the chase continued, as we have seen in the previous chapter, until a point of the railroad about thirteen miles from Chattanooga was reached. In the cab of "The General" Andrews was standing with his head bowed down; his stock of hopefulness had suddenly vanished. At last he saw that the expedition, of which he had cherished such high expectations, was a complete failure. A few miles in front was Chattanooga, where capture awaited them, while a mile in the rear were well-armed men. "There's only one thing left to do," he said mournfully to George, who was regarding his chief with anxious interest. "We must abandon the engine, scatter, and get back to General Mitchell's lines as best we can, each in his own way!" Then the leader put his hand on the engineer's shoulder. "Stop the engine," he said; "the game is up; the dance is over!" The engineer knew only too well what Andrews meant. He obeyed the order, and the tired "General," which had faithfully carried the party for about a hundred miles, panted and palpitated like a dying horse. The great locomotive was, indeed, in a pitiable condition. The brass of the journals and boxes was melted by the heat; the steel tires were actually red-hot, and the steam issued from all the loosened joints. Andrews turned to the men who were huddled together in the tender. "Every man for himself, boys," he cried. "You must scatter and do the best you can to steal into the Federal lines. I've led you as well as I could--but the fates were against us. God bless you, boys, and may we all meet again!"