"They've left the freight car in there," shouted Fuller to the engineer. "Just the shed is burning now. Slow down and pick the car up, then rush on through." "Through that fire?" demanded the engineer. "Yes! If we stop we're lost." Fuller went to Murphy. "Better come in the cab--we're going through." Murphy followed him. They stood looking out over the tender. The engineer reversed the _Texas_ and brought it to a crawling pace as they reached the mouth of the shed. Smoke and flames enveloped them, blinding them, and they felt the wheels of the locomotive crunching over charred board which had fallen across the track. Then came the shock as the tender bumped the freight car. Flames showered down over the locomotive, streaking through the blackness. The heat was scorching, sickening. The speed of the _Texas_ increased. And then they found themselves in the clear air again, pushing the smoking remains of the freight car before them. "Go on! Go on!" yelled Fuller. "Never mind about the bridge." He glanced back and saw the shed collapse, shooting sparks into the pillar of smoke that was rising. "We'll get them between here and Chattanooga." * * * * * That smoke, rising into the sky, came like a signal of triumph to Andrews' men. They watched it silently; then they yelled. It was recompense for all those long hours of tension and violent effort. The men danced, shouted, and hammered each other upon the back. Andrews' face, drawn by hours of anxiety, relaxed into a smile. "There's one bridge down!" he shouted. "How much fuel have we?" "This is the last of it," answered Tom. He kicked the two logs which lay on the tender floor, ready to be shoved into the fire-box. Andrews went to the tender and gathered the men about him. "What we'll do from here on," he said, "depends upon whether the Rebs come through that bridge. If they don't get through, we'll have time enough to gather fuel and burn the bridges ahead of us. If they do get through, the only thing that we can do is to abandon the engine and take to our legs." "Stop and fight 'em," protested Boss. "No," answered Andrews. "We're not here to fight. It won't do us or the North any good. We're here to burn bridges and we've done it. If we can't reach the next bridge our work is done. Scatter--each man for himself!" The _General_ came into a long straight track, which had the small town of Ringgold at its northern end. "If we don't see them by the time we reach the next curve it means they're stopped," said Andrews. Tom put the last of the fuel into the fire. Brown closed the dampers and glanced at the steam gauge. He shook his head savagely. "If we only had some of that fuel we used on the freight car!" he exclaimed. "More important to burn the bridge," answered Tom. "I wish Andrews would stop around this bend and fight 'em."