the trestles that spanned the deep valleys. All trains made a great
roar and rattle then, and the long ravines gave it back in a rumbling
and menacing echo. Gusts of rain were swept now and then into the faces
of the engineer, the firemen and the officers.

"Do you see anything ahead, Canby?" said Colonel Newcomb to the engineer.

"Nothing. That's the trouble, sir. If it were a clear night I
shouldn't be worried. Then we wouldn't be likely to steam into danger
with our eyes shut. This is a wild country. The mountaineers in the
main are for us, but we are not far north of the Southern line, and
if they know we are crossing they may undertake to raid in here."

"And they may know it," said the colonel. "Washington is full of
Southern sympathizers. Stop the train, Canby, when we come to the first
open and level space, and we'll do some scouting ahead."

The engineer felt great relief. He was devoutly glad that the colonel
was going to take such a precaution. At that moment he, more than
Colonel Newcomb, was responsible for the lives of the seven hundred
human beings aboard the train, and his patriotism and sense of
responsibility were both strong.

The train, with much jolting and clanging, stopped fifteen minutes
later. Both Dick and Warner, awakened by the shock, sat up and rubbed
their eyes. Then they left the train at once to join Colonel Newcomb,
who might want them immediately. Wary Sergeant Whitley followed them
in silence.

The boys found Colonel Newcomb and the remaining members of his staff