At first, Tom was up a tree. When he jumped from the abandoned locomotive, his mind was working as quickly as his body. He reasoned that the Confederates would expect them all to run as fast and as far away as they could; that they would run after them; that they would very probably catch him, utterly tired out as he was, so tired that even fear could not lend wings to his leaden feet; that the pursuit, however, would not last long, because the Confederates would wish to reach a station soon, in order both to report their success and to send out a general alarm and so start a general search for the fugitives; and that he would best hide as near at hand as might be. In other words, he thought, quite correctly, that the best thing to do is exactly what your enemy does not expect you to do. He picked out a big oak tree quite close to the track, its top a mass of thick-set leaves such as a Southern April brings to a Southern oak. He climbed it, nestled into a sheltered crotch high above the ground, and waited. He did not have to wait long. He could still hear the noise of his comrades plunging through the woods when the Confederate engine drew up beneath his feet. Before it stopped, the armed men who clustered thick upon locomotive and tender were on the ground and running into the woods. A gallant figure in Confederate gray led them. He heard the rush of them, then a shot or two, exultant yells, and ere long the tramp of returning feet. They came back in half a dozen groups, bringing with them three of his comrades in flight, less fortunate than he, at least less fortunate up to that time. Andrews was one of the prisoners. He had slipped and fallen, had strained a sinew, and had lain helpless until his pursuers reached him. Tom, peering cautiously through his leafy shelter, saw that his late leader was limping and was held upright by a kindly Confederate, who had passed his arm about him. "'Tain't fur," said his captor, cheerily, "hyar's the injine." "The Yank's goin' fur," sneered a soldier of another kind, "he's goin' to Kingdom Cum, blast him!" He lifted his fist to strike the helpless man, but the young officer in command caught the upraised arm. "None of that," he said, sternly. "Americans don't treat prisoners that way. You're under arrest. Put down your gun and climb into the tender. Do it now and do it quick." Sulkily the brute obeyed. "Lift him in," went on the officer to the man who was supporting Andrews. This was gently done. The other two captives climbed in. So did the Confederates. Their officer turned to them. "You've done your duty well," he said. "You've been chasing brave men. They've done their duty well too. "'For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before.'" Tom started with surprise. The young officer was quoting from Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient Rome." The boy had stood beside his mother's knee when she read him the "Lays" and had often since read them himself.