as if he were baffled or
disappointed.

"They can't be here," came a voice from across the river. "We had better
go back; they may be down the railroad track."

"Perhaps they swam across the stream," urged some one else.

"That would be certain death!" answered the first voice.

There was a whining from the dog, as if he had discovered a scent. Then a
simultaneous cry from several sturdy lungs. "Look at these coats and
boots!" "They did try to cross, after all." "Well, they never got over in
this current!" "They must have been carried down the Chickamauga and been
drowned!" Such were the exclamations which were wafted to the ears of the
two fugitives behind the rock.

[Illustration: None too Soon Had He Executed this Manoeuvre]

"The Chickamauga," said Watson, under his breath. "So that's the name of
the river, eh?"

There was evidently some heated discussion going on among the unseen
pursuers. At length one of them cried: "Well, comrades, as there's not one
of us who wants to swim over the river in its present state, and as the
fools may even be drowned by this time, I move we go home. The whole
countryside will be on the lookout for the rest of the engine thieves by
to-morrow--and they won't escape us before then."

"Nonsense," interrupted a voice, "don't you know night's just the time
which they will take for escape?"

"Are you ready, then, to swim across the Chickamauga?"

"No."

"Then go home, and don't talk nonsense! To-morrow, when the river is less
angry, we will be up by dawn--and then for a good hunt!"

Apparently the advice of the last speaker was considered wise, for the men
left the river bank. At last their voices could be no longer heard in the
distance. The shades of twilight began to fall, and the rain ceased. Then
Watson and his companion crawled cautiously from behind the boulder. They
were two as dilapidated creatures as ever drew breath under a southern
sky. With soaking shirts and trousers, and without coats, vests, or shoes,
they looked the picture of destitution. And their feelings! They were
hungry, dispirited, exhausted. All the pleasure seemed to have gone out of
life.

"We can't stay in this charming spot all night," said Watson,
sarcastically.

"I suppose a rock is as good as anything else we can find," answered the
boy gloomily. "Poor Waggie! Why did I try to drag him across the river?"

"Poor little midget," said Watson. "I'll never forget the appealing look
in his eyes