,
in "The Farmers," a man of such wide experience as a railway official,
so well posted on the general situation, and so keenly alive to the
importance of the railroad and the necessity of keeping it open. Within
a week Jewett had made a reputation. If there had been time to name him,
he would doubtless have been called superintendent of transportation;
but there was no time to classify those who were working on the road.
They called him Jewett. In some way the story of the one-time captain's
experience at Bloomington came to the colonel's ears, and he sent for
Jewett. As a result of the interview, the young private was taken from
the ranks, made a captain, and "assigned to special duty." His special
duty was that of General Manager of the M. & L. Railroad, with
headquarters in a car.

Jewett called upon the colonel again, uninvited this time, and
protested. He wanted to get into the fighting. "Don't worry, my boy,"
said the good-natured colonel, "I'll take the fight out of you later on;
for the present, Captain Jewett, you will continue to run this
railroad."

The captain saluted and went about his business.

There had been some fierce fighting at the front, and the Yankees had
gotten decidedly the worst of it. Several attempts had been made to rush
re-enforcements forward by rail, but with poor success. The pilot
engines had all been ditched. As a last desperate chance, Jewett
determined to try a "black" train. Two engines were attached to a
troop-train, and Jewett seated himself on the pilot of the forward
locomotive. The lights were all put out. They were to have no pilot
engine, but were to slip past the ambuscade, if possible, and take
chances on lifted rails and absent bridges. It was near the end of a
dark, rainy night. The train was rolling along at a good freight clip,
the engines working as full as might be without throwing fire, when
suddenly, from either side of the track, a yellow flame flared out,
followed immediately by the awful roar of the muskets from whose black
mouths the murderous fire had rushed. The bullets fairly rained on the
jackets of the engines, and crashed through the cab windows. The
engineer on the head engine was shot from his seat. Jewett, in a hail of
lead, climbed over the running-board, pulled wide the throttle, and
whistled "off brakes." The driver of the second engine, following his
example, opened also, and the train was thus whirled out of range, but
not until Jewett had bee