But the rush was checked as suddenly as it had begun. The first men to get through the doors had hardly leaped to the ground when they saw from the shadow of the cut the vicious spit of revolvers and heard the bullets singing unpleasantly over their heads. Where they stood the gray dawn made them perfectly visible, but the blackness of the cut screened their assailants and made it impossible to guess their numbers. About twenty men had got out of the C. & S.C. train when the volley was fired, and the celerity with which they scattered brought another cheer from Mallory's men intrenched in the cut. Some of the fugitives scurried to the woods, while others struggled back into the cars. The shots had been heard inside the cars, and the rush to get out of them was succeeded by the impulse to lie down. The men were without leaders, without means of measuring the peril they were in or the force of their opponents, without knowledge of what was expected of them; and they lay cowering but angry in the barricaded cars, awaiting further developments. There was no one to tell them what to do. Where were their leaders? The murmur ran through the line of cars that McNally and Wilkins had deserted them. For neither of them was on the train when the collision occurred. McNally, standing on the Sawyerville platform near the rear end of his train, had already given the signal to go ahead when a man came out of the woods, hurried across the muddy road, ran down the platform, and clutching his arm said eagerly:-- “Mr. McNally, Wilkins wants you to come over here. We've caught one of them and he says he thinks it's the one you told him about.” McNally turned and shouted to the engineer, “Hold on up there a minute”; but the cry was unheard, and the long train continued slowly toward the curve. Smith, who had just brought the report to McNally, started up the platform in pursuit, but McNally stopped him. “Never mind,” he said. “They won't go far. Now tell me about this fellow you've caught. Where was he?” “Right over here in the woods; it's only a little way. Wilkins wanted you should come over there.” “Go ahead,” said McNally. “Show me the way.” The two men crossed the road and entered the woods by the path. It was still as black as midnight under the trees, and they felt their way cautiously. Just north of the farmhouse they left the path and stepped into the crackling underbrush. They had gone but a few paces when they were stopped by the sound of a low whistle close by at their left. “There they are,” said the guide. McNally started to follow him, but hesitated and then whispered:-- “I'll wait here. Send Wilkins out to me, will you?” When Wilkins appeared McNally stepped back a little and looked around nervously before he spoke. “Can they hear us?” Wilkins shook his head. “How much did you tell that young fellow of our conversation?” questioned McNally.