He crawled on, with the man behind clutching at him, now and then, and the one in front sliding back on him, until his arms were wet to the elbows and his legs to the knees; but the top of the grade seemed strangely difficult to reach, and he could see nothing with the snow that blew over it in his eyes. Suddenly Larry rose up, there was a shout and a flounder, and, though he did not quite know how he got there, Breckenridge found himself standing close behind his comrade, and in the light of the lantern held up saw a man drop his hammer. There were other men close by, but they were apparently too astonished to think of flight. "It's Larry!" somebody exclaimed. "Stop where you are," said Grant sharply as one man made a move. "I don't want to shoot any of you, but I most certainly will if you make me. Are there any more of you?" "No," said one of the men disgustedly. Grant walked forward swinging his lantern until his eyes rested on one partly loosened rail. "And that is as far as you have got?" he said. "Take up your hammer and drive the wood key in. Get hold of their rifles, Charley. I guess they are under that coat." There was an angry murmur, and a man started to speak; but Grant stopped him. "Hammer the wedges in," he said. "It was pure foolishness made me come here to save you from the cavalry who had heard of what you meant to do, because we have no use for men of your kind in this country. You haven't even sense enough to keep your rifles handy, and there will be two or three less of you to worry decent folks if you keep us waiting." A man took up the hammer, and then waited a moment, looking at those who stood about Larry. He could see the faces of one or two in the lantern light, and recognized that he need expect no support from them. The men were resolute Americans, who had no desire for anything approaching anarchy. "We are with Larry, and don't feel like fooling. Hadn't you better start in?" one of them said. The rail was promptly fastened, and Grant, after examining it, came back. "Go on in front of us, and take your tools along! It will not be nice for the man who tries to get away," he said. The prisoners plodded dejectedly up the track until they reached the calaboose, into which the others drove them. Then Grant and Breckenridge went back to the locomotive, and the former nodded to the engineer: "Take us through to Boynton as fast as you can." "That is a big load off your mind," Breckenridge said as the panting engine got under way. But Grant, huddled in a corner, neither moved nor spoke until, half an hour later, they rolled into a little wooden town and the men in the calaboose got down. There was nobody about the depot to ask them any questions, and they crossed the track to the straggling street apparently on good terms with each other, though four of them knew that unpleasant results would follow any attempt at a dash for liberty. In answer to Grant's knock, a man let them into one of the stores.