“A signal!” exclaimed Colonel Newcomb. “Beyond a doubt it is the Southerners. Whatever they’re saying they’re saying it to somebody. Look toward the south!”
“Ah, there they are answering!” exclaimed Major Hertford.
All had wheeled simultaneously, and on another high spur a mile to the south a second red light as vivid and intense as the first was flashing back and forth. It, too, the mountain below invisible, seemed to swing in the heavens. Dick, standing there in the darkness and rain, and knowing that imminent and mortal danger was on either side, felt a frightful chill creeping slowly down his spine. It is a terrible thing to feel through some superior sense that an invisible foe is approaching, and not be able to know by any kind of striving whence he came.
The lights flashed alternately, and presently both dropped from the sky, seeming to Dick to leave blacker spots on the darkness in their place. Then only the heavy night and the rain encompassed them.
“What do you think it is?” asked Colonel Newcomb of Major Hertford.
“Southern troops beyond a doubt. It is equally certain that they were warned in some manner from Washington of our departure.”
“I think so, too. It is probable that they saw the light and have been signalling their knowledge to each other. It seems likely to me that they will wait at the far end of the valley to cut us off. What force do you think it is?”
“Perhaps a cavalry detachment that has ridden hurriedly to intercept us. I would say at a guess that it is Turner Ashby and his men. A skillful and dangerous foe, as you know.”
Already the fame of this daring Confederate horseman was spreading over Virginia and Maryland.
“If we are right in our guess,” said Major Hertford, “they will dismount, lead their horses along the mountain side, and shut down the trap upon us. Doubtless they are in superior force, and know the country much better than we do. If they get ahead of us and have a little time to do it in they will certainly tear up the tracks.”
“I think you are right in all respects,” said Colonel Newcomb. “But it is obvious that we must not give them time to destroy the road ahead of us. As for the rest, I wonder.”
He pulled uneasily at his short beard, and then he caught sight of Sergeant Whitley standing silently, arms folded, by the side of the engine. Newcomb, the miner colonel, was a man of big and open mind. A successful business man, he had the qualities which made him a good general by the time the war was in its third year. He knew Whitley and he knew, too, that he was an old army regular, bristling with experience and shrewdness.
“Sergeant Whitley,” he said, “in this emergency what would you do, if you were in my place?”
The sergeant saluted respectfully.
“If I were in your place, sir, which I never will be,” he replied, “I would have all the troops leave the train. Then I would have the engineers take the train forward slowly, while the troops marched on either side of it, but at a sufficient distance to be hidden in the darkness. Then, sir, our men could not be caught in a wreck, but with their feet on solid earth they would be ready, if need be, for a fight, which is our business.”
“Well spoken, Sergeant Whitley,” said Colonel Newcomb, while the other officers also nodded approval. “Your plan is excellent and we will adopt it. Get the troops out of the train quickly but in silence and do you, Canby, be ready with the engine.”
Dick and Warner with the older officers turned to the task. The young soldiers were out of the train in two minutes and were forming in lines on either side, arms ready. There were many whisperings among these boys, but none loud enough to be heard twenty yards away. All felt intense relief when they left the train and stood upon the solid, though decidedly damp earth.
But the cold rain sweeping upon their faces was a tonic, both mental and physical, after the close heat of the train. They did not know why they had disembarked, but they surmised with good reason that an attack was threatened and they were eager to meet it.