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 been badly wounded.  A second volley rained upon the rearmost cars, but did little damage.  The enemy had been completely outwitted.  They had mistaken the train for a pilot engine, which they had planned to let pass; after which they were to turn a switch, ditch, and capture the train.

There was great rejoicing in the hungry army at the front that dawn, when the long train laden with soldiers and sandwiches arrived.  The colonel was complimented by the corps commander, but he was too big and brave to accept promotion for an achievement in which he had had no part or even faith.  He told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; and, when it was all over, there was no more “Captain” Jewett.  When he came out of the hospital he had the rank of a major, but was still “assigned to special duty.”

Major Jewett’s work became more important as the great struggle went on.  Other lines of railway fell into the hands of the Yankees, and all of them in that division of the army came under his control.  They were good for him, for they made him a very busy man and kept him from panting for the firing-line.  In conjunction with General D., the famous army engineer, who has since become a noted railroad-builder, he rebuilt and re-equipped wrecked railways, bridged wide rivers, and kept a way open for men and supplies to get to the front.