Porter read it and exclaimed petulantly, “McDowell must have been asleep when he let a man get away like that.” “Do you think there's much harm done?” asked McNally. “I'm afraid so. Weeks will hear all about it in a few minutes, if he hasn't already, and he's sure to hit back. He moves quick, too.” “We can wire McDowell to stay right where he is, and rush through another train with re-enforcements,” suggested McNally. “We may not be able to get the rest, but we can at least keep what we've got.” “You'd better make up another train, anyway. We can fill it up with men from our carshops. McDowell had better keep right on up the line. If we have to fight, it'll be better to do it at some small place than at Tillman. We're less likely to be interfered with. Tell McDowell to go slow and not too far.” The order to McDowell with the promise of reeforcements was sent out in time to catch him before he left Tillman, and then McNally turned his attention to massing his reserve. At the end of an hour and a half of hard work he saw the last files of the rear guard march down the platform and into the train. His frown expressed dissatisfaction, for these men were not so good fighting material as those McDowell had captained. Their manner was sheepish; they did not finger lovingly the clubs they had been provided with, and altogether they seemed to feel a much greater respect for law and order than was appropriate to the occasion. They were the best men available, however, and there were several hundred of them, and McNally was about to give the order which would send them up the road to the succor of McDowell, when Porter came hurrying toward him from the telegraph office. “Don't send those men out yet, McNally,” he said. “There's something wrong here. I think they've bagged McDowell.” The train despatcher came into the waiting room, and seeing them walked rapidly toward them. “Something has gone wrong, gentlemen. We've been talking to Gilsonville and he's all balled up. He isn't the same man who was there fifteen minutes ago.” “They've got past McDowell then,” said McNally. “And they couldn't have done that without catching him. We'd better get that train away as fast as possible then, hadn't we?” “I don't think so,” said Porter. “Have them ready to start at a minute's notice, and we'll plan out what's the best thing to do.” Back in the little office again Porter explained his plan. “You see,” he said, “these fellows are not likely to be very much in a fight. We don't know how many men Weeks has got, but the farther down the line he comes the weaker he'll be. If we let him come far enough we can do the same trick to him that he must have done to McDowell; but if we meet him halfway, he may beat us. That leaves us at his mercy.” “Do you think Weeks is on the train himself?” asked McNally. “Can't tell. It would be like him. If he isn't, that young West is. Most likely West is, anyway.”