A TALE OE CIVIL STRIFE
^ RANDALL PAPPI5H !T
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SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Confederate Rergeent
wyatt of the Staunton artillery is sent
as a spy to his native county on the Green
Hilar by General Jackson.
CHAPTER TT—Wyatt meets a moun
taineer named Jem Taylor, with whom lie
rides to a house beyond Hot Springs.
CHAPTER HI—In the house Wvatt and
Taylor meet Major Harwood, father of
Noreen and an old neighbor or Wyatt.
Iw'iio is sent to bed while the two other
men talk. Wyatt becomes suspicious, and
finds that Taylor has murdered Harwood
and escaped.
CHAPTER IV—Wyatt changes to the
U. 8. cavalrf uniform he has with him.
and rides away in the night, running into
a detachment of Federal cavalry to
whom he identifies himself as Lieutenant
Raymond. Third U. 8. cavalry, by means
of papers with which he has been pro
vided. Captain Fox finds Harwood’s body
and follows Taylor's trail.
CHAPTER V—Fox and Wyatt believe
Taylor to be old Ned Cowan. The de
ft*' hment is ambushed. Wyatt escapes to
the Green Briar country and goes to Har
wood's apparently deserted home.
CHAPTER VI—Wyatt finds Noreen
Harwood alone In her home. She does
not recognize him, and he introduces him
self as Lieutenant Raymond.
CHAPTER VII—Parson Nichols comes
to the house and tells Noreen of her fa
ther's death.
CHAPTER VIII—Wyatt forces Parson
Nichols to confess that he has been sent
in advance of Anse Cowan, who propose*
to marry Noreen at once, and so quiet
title to the land in dispute between the
Cowans and Noreen's dead father.
CHAPTER IX—Anse Cowan and his
gang arrive arid find the preacher bound
in a closet. Wyatt and Noreen have con
cealed themselves in the attic.
CHAPTER X—The Cowan gang ran
sacks the house but fails to And the bid
den couple. Wyatt tells Noreen who he Is.
CHAPTER XI Wyatt and Noreen re
turn to the second floor and await the
next move of the gang, forcing the
preacher to silence.
CHAPTER XTT Enable to escape while
the gang Is on tile first floor and around
the house. Wyatt proposes to marry
Noreen to protect her from Cowan She
accepts and Wyatt forces the preacher to
marry them.
CHAPTER Xril—Cowan’s gang Is driv
en off by Federal troops, one of whose
officers is the real Lieutenant Raymond.
Wyatt is trapped, though Noreen attempts
to defend him.
CHAPTER XIV—Wyatt Is taken to
Lewlsburg for trial as a spy.
CHAPTER XV—The camp commandant
and Captain Fox visit Wyatt in his ceil
in the courthouse basement. He refuses
clemency In return for Information, and
uses his boyhood's knowledge of the build
ing to prepare a way of escape.
CHAPTER XVI—Captain Fox again
visits Wyatt, and tells him that Noreen
has Interceded for him unsuccessfully, and
that Raymond. Jealous. Is pushing the
case against him.
CHAPTER XVII— tVyatt escapes to the
attic and thence to the sheriff’s office by
means of a disused, old-fashioned chim
ney. washes off the soot and changes
clothes in the deserted washroom, and re
connolfers.
CHAPTER XVIII-Wyatt surprises
Raymond and his camp commandant,
holds them up. and with the aid of Nor
een. gets out of headquarters room In
the courthouse.
CHAPTER XIX—Wyatt and Noreen
win clear of the courthouse and Noreen
decides to accompany him In his flight.
CHAPTER XX—Wyatt and Noreen ob
tuln horses and escape from Lewlsburg.
CHAPTER XXI- They meet old Ned
Cowan In a deserted cabin, and In a tight
Cowan is killed.
CHAPTER XXII.
We Understand Each Other.
Noreen had drawn away from the
body of the dead man, and stood
against the farther log wall, with fare
hidden in her hands. Cowan lay at
full length, one arm thrown across his
eyes. I bent over him, touching his
flesh with my fingers. The ball had
penetrated his abdomen, and how the
fellow ever fought so fiercely after
receiving his death wound 1 can never
understand. I think that in his mad
ferocity he was scarcely aware that
he was hurt. 1 turned him partly over,
aud drew out from the inside pocket
of his blouse a handful of papers con
cealed there. One was a buff packet,
which had been roughly torn open—
the one taken from Major Harwood
the night of his murder.
The packet contained several official
papers, but the principal paper was a
carefully prepared list of irregulars
operating throughout the mountain
country, with names of the belter
known leaders, the estimated strength
of each separate gang, the region In
which they hid, and the side, they
espoused, if any. This had evidently
been carefully prepared by some staff
officer, undoubtedly Major Harwood
himself, as the letter referred to him
as having bc^i detailed to such duty,
and was fulflknd complete. I found
therein this mention of the Cowans:
"Father and two sons; probably con
trol fifty or more men, with headquar
ters near Union in Green Briar
mountains; raid indiscriminately;
have attacked our forage trains; re
fuse to co-operate, and continue to ter
rorize a large section; raided Lewis
burg before It was occupied by troops,
killing several, and looting the shops.
Is considered the most dangerous
gang operating In Green Briar and
Monroe counties; reports of atrocities
received almost dally, many too hide
ous to repeat."
I glanced up at Noreen, and her eyes
met mine Inquiringly.
"Is this your father’s handwriting?”
I asked, holding the paper toward him.
^Yes; what Is It—important?’^
“XoTvety fcompV,niC','_„. y To Cowan
here A report to General Halleek, at
Washington, of conditions In western
Virginia. 1 wonder how the old vil
lain ever learned that such a paper
was being forwarded?”
‘‘It is not likely he did,” she an
swered thoughtfully. “It may have
been mere accident which put the
document in his hands. See, here is a
J
I '' __
I Ran My Hand Within, Touching the 1
Flesh.
letter that father wrote," and she
stooped and picked it up from the
floor, uttering an exclamation of sur
prise. “Why, it—it is addressed to
Ned Cowan at Union! What could
he possibly have written this man
about?”
“I.et me see," and I took it from her
hands. “We may find here an expla
nation of the whole affair.”
It was a single sheet, very formal in
expression, as though the writer mere
ly performed a duty which he consid
ered unpleasant, but necessary. He
acknowledged receipt of a communica
tion reaching him at Ramsay's head
quarters, apparently an application for
pardon, and a pledge to unite with the
Federal forces, and stated that the
writer would be at the Minor housi
near Hot Springs at a certain date
where he would be glad to confer fur
filer regarding the matter. He agreed
to come unattended, and suggested
that tiis visitor use the name of la> j
lor so as to prevent any suspicion. Tin
closing paragraph referred to a for
mer misunderstanding between them
and expressed a kindly desire to blot
out all memory of what had occurred.
My hands trembled as 1 reud the lines
and the girl at my side cried softly,
her eyes so filled with tears 1 doubt
if she could distinguish the words.
Scarcely aware of the action, I held
her with my arm, the letter crumpled
between my fingers.
“It's all clear enough now. little
girl.” I whispered, my voice trembling
from sympathy. “Your father met his
death at the hands of a treacherous
scoundrel. It was a plot carefully con
ceived, and now Cowan has paid the
penalty. I am glad we have learned
the truth; but Major Harwood would
never wish you to mourn here in the
midst of all this danger—you are lis
tening?"
"Yes; I will do just as you say.”
"It will be best to go; safer, 1 think,
also.”
Her hands clung to me, but she was
no longer crying, although unshed
tears dimmed her eyes.
“I—I thank God,” she faltered, “that
he sent you to me. I could not bear
all this alone.”
“1 am glad you care to have me
here,” I answered eagerly. “I was half
afraid you did not.”
“Oh, but 1 do; 1 cannot tell you all
it means. 1—1 think 1 have never felt
more helpless, or—or discouraged.”
"It is the strain of so much occur
ring at once, and you are worn out.
We will get away from here, some
where back into the hills, where we
can feel safe from discovery. Then
we can rest all day, and you will be
all right again. Wo need sleep and
food.”
1 released her hands gently, began
a swift search, and found all we re
quired. I left Cowan lying just as he
had fallen. Both of us were glad
enough when we closed the door of
the shack and returned to our horses.
We rode on steadily for an hour, only
occasionally exchanging a word. The
road was rough and mountainous, so
rocky underfoot our horses left no
trail. At last we came to a narrow
ravine down which a brook plunged
over a stony bed. There was no trail
visible, but it was possible to advance
some distance by keeping close to the
bank. 1 dismounted, and. holding to
the rein, led my horse carefully for
ward.
“Follow as closely as you can," I
Wiled back to her, “and keep at the
rock edge so as to leave no trail.”
A safer place surely Could not Tiave
been found. We were in a narrow de
file, scarcely fifty feet across, and
guarded on either side by high rock
walls, precipitous, and exhibiting no
sign of a trail. 1 picketed the horses
close to the stream and spread blan
kets for the lady to lie on at the foot
of the bluff, where she w'ould be well
screened by a thicket of underbrush.
Then I came back to where she sat
silently against the bole of a large
tree, watching my movements.
“No doubt we are safe enough here,”
I said, opening the pack. “Hut I'll not
rtsk a fire; you cau eat, I suppose?”
“I hardly know,” wearily. "Perhaps
I can ■choke a little food down; but
really 1 am not hungry. How far
have we come?”
“As a mere guess I should say near
ly ten miles since leaving the cabin.
By the sun it must be nine o’clock.
Eat what you can, and then lie down
on the blankets and rest. We will not
leave' here until just before dark.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I may doze later if there Is
no alarm; 1 shall never be far away.”
She ate of the coarse food daintily,
apparently without appetite, but 1 did
full justice to the meal, satisfied, for
tlie time being at least, that we were
securely hidden. There was a strange
constraint between us, and, finally,
hoping to make he? feel more at ease,
1 ventured to broach the subject which
I knew must be also uppermost in her
mind.
“It is an odd situation in which we
find ourselves,” I began awkwardly,
my eyes on the ground, "but I hope
you—you will not feel embarrassed,
or—or fail to have complete confi
dence in me. I—I have no wish to
take any advantage; or—or assume
any authority."
1 stopped, unable to express the
thing I desired to say and the silence
seemed long. I lifted my eyes, and
she was locking at me.
“May I ask you one question?”
“A dozen.”
“No, the one is all. You really be
lieved those who attacked us were
Cowan's men?”
“1 had no other thought, Miss No
reen.”
“Then your proposal was merely
made iu the hope of thus protecting
me from insult?"
“That was rny sole thought at the
time,” I replied soberly. "It was a
desi>erate chance, yet the only one ap
parently left us. That is what I
wanted to say, to explain,” I went on
hastily, before she could interrupt. “I
realize the serious mistake made, and
how embarrassing it must all be to
you. But you must believe me a
gentleman. I would never have spo
ken one word; never have made any
claim upon you. Miss Norecn, 1 real
ize that I have no right.”
“You may call me Ncreen,” she said
i simply. “We have been friends, and
I i think we will always be. I do trust
you, and believe in you; only I wanted
•o understand fully your motive. I do
not blame you, nor myself; we did
what seemed best at the time and—
now we must meet the issue as we
best can. Perhaps I should not have
-aid what I did back there in Lewis
burg. 1 had no time in which to con
sider, and my only thought then was
to justify my action in aiding your
escape. My—my being your—your
wife was the only excuse 1 could urge
for such disloyalty."
“And now you are sorry?”
"I—do not know,” hesitatingly. “1
cannot decide. Where do you take
me?"
“Noreen,” I said soberly, struggling
to keep my head from touching her
own, where it rested on the grass, “it
is too late now to go back; to think
of going back. We cannot deny or
conceal our marriage, since you have
openly acknowledged it, and we have
gone awray together. There is only
one straight path left for us now—
across the mountains to old Virginia.”
“I—1 know—and then?”
“You must trust my honor, my dis
cretion. We are friends, you say, and
I mean to prove worthy. My orders
will take me to Richmond; have you
either friends or relatives there?”
“1 am not sure, the war has made
such changes—but 1 hardly think any
in whom 1 could confide.”
“Then we w ill find a way for you to
join my mother; she is in North Caro
J
Noreen Was Within a Few Feet of
Me Higher Up On the Bank.
You
llna, out of the track of armies,
will consent to go to her?"
"If you think it best. I—I have
never met your mother; perhaps—”
^You will be just as welcome; 1
will write her every C:iutV Sml sh3
will be rejoiced to shelter you. The
only trouble is the necessary dtlay In
volved by the war; the imi>ossibility
of your venturing to return to Green
Briar until the conflict is over.”
She was silent a long while, hrr eyes
cast down, her breathing noticeably
rapid. I waited, not knowing what
else to add, and was about to propose
her lying down, when she spoke sud
denly:
‘ You mean our—our separation?"
“Certainly. That can be easily ar
ranged us soon as the courts are again
in session. Possibly the ceremony was
not even legal without witnesses, but,
under the circumstances, it bad better
be dissolved in court. Such action
would remove all doubt from your
mind.”
“Yes—I suppose so; v<*n—you make
It very clear. And that w ;n'tl have
to be done in Green Briar?—the—the
action for divorce?”
"At Lewisburg; not necessarily, of
course, but I supposed you would rath
er have the facts made known there,
so that your friends can realize all the
conditions—the cause, I mean. Pos
sibly you may not need to do this.”
"Not need! Why?”
“A soldier never knows what an
other minute means; 1 am a soldier.”
She did not look at me, or move,
although I thought the hand resting on
the gru^s trembled.
“I believe I will lie down,” she said
finally. ‘‘Is that the place ycu have
chosen, beyond those trees?”
‘‘Yes;, let me help you up; the blan
kets are both yours. I shall not need
any.”
I stood and watched her move across
through the mingled shade and sun,
until her slender form finally disap
peared behind the screen of under
growth. Once she had glanced about,
pausing as though some thought had
occurred suddenly, but she did not
speak. 1 was left alone.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Cane Ridge lYeeting House.
The spot where Noreen lay was not
fifty feet distant, but my position gave
me no glimpse of her through the
tangled brush. 1 must have dozed, for
the sun was high overhead when I
finally aroused myself, and arose to
my feet. 1 watered the animals, and
seated myself again, this time on a
flat stone beside the sream. Surely
I had never been here before, even in
the days of niv boyhood's vagrant
tramping, and yet that terraced crest,
with the huge rock chimney rising
conspicuous at its center, revived a
recollection that would not be entirely
denied. I had seen it before, but
from another angle—from the south;
from that hillside perhaps, where the
creek headed. Why, that was Cane
Ridge!
1 do not know why 1 laughed, but I
did—perhaps it was from sudden re
lief at thus discovering exactly where
we were, and seeing clearly the easier
way out. The sound of a foot stepping
on a round stone caused me to face
about. Ncreen was within a few feet
of me, higher up on the bank, one
band holding back the bough of a tree
“Why were you laughing?” she
asked. “1 thought you had gone until
1 heard that sound
“I had to laugh when the truth
finally came to me; that is Cane
Ridge.”
“Where—where the Baptist church
Is?”
points out to his congregation the
straight and narrow way There is a
bridle path yonder leading up from the
valley, which will save us a five-mite
detour. But it means we are still in
Cowan’s country, and to climb there
with horses will require the use of
daylight.”
‘‘You think Anse—”
“Is probably back before this, and
doing his best to trail us Even it
he does not discover the body of old
Ned, he will naturally conclude we
will head east. My only hope is that,
not having seen us last night he may
imagine we chose the southern route,
and ride there first. But if he did,
doubtless he would send some one of
his men scouting this way.”
“You have heard—seen nothing?”
“No, we are too far back; the noise
of an army passing along the pike
would not reach here If we get to
Cane Ridge church before dark, we
must trust to luck, and the night for
the next thirty miles.”
“You fear Cowan’s gang more than
the troops? Surely they will pursue?”
“No doubt; Piekney will be raving,
and Raymond crazy to get hand on
me. Ay! there will be some galloping
of troopers. I should have liked to
see Fox's face when he heard the
news. By heavetm! they are like
enough to charge hnn with conspiracy,
for he was officer of the day. Ilryv
ever, I do not greatly fear them; they
wall make noise enough to warn us,
and couldn’t track a bear. It is the
mountain men we must guard against;
they are wolves. You slept well?”
“After the first half hour. I am
rested, and strong. Shall we go now ?”
“When we have eaten. There may
be no other opportunity, and there is
ample time."
We sat over the poor meal a long
while, talking like old friends, laugh
ing over revived memories, almost for
getting that we were fugitives, our
very lives at stake. Twice we heard
guns, but the reports were but distant
echoes, sounding afar off to the west
ward. Yet these made me nervous to
getaway, and when a number sounded
together—almost a volley, distinctly
audible, l hastened to pack what little
remained of food on our horses, and
led the way. fording the shallow
stream, and guiding my horse up the
opposite DlThK tr.“ \~t; aet’p gflatnrw of
the woods beyond. The summit of
the hill was open, except for a con
siderable grove to the rear of the
church. That edifice appeared, as I
remembered it, unchanged in any re
spect—a fairly large building, con
structed solidly of logs, with square,
clapboarded tower in front, four win
dows on each side, containing small
panes of glass, a number of them
broken. We were at the rear, which
showed a larger window, and a nar
row door at one corner, protected by
a porch. It appeared desolate and
deserted, the loneliness accentuated
by the empty hitching racks on either
side.
We advanced side by side along
what was once a well-trodden path,
making no attempt at concealment
Indeed, any such effort would have
been useless, as the crest of the ridge
lay open, and bare of vegetation, but I
was so fully convinced we were unob
served that 1 took no precaution—my
pntire thought, indeed, centered upot
the girl at my side.
The heavy latch of the front dooi
lifted easily to the pressure of my
hand, and we stepped into a narrow
vestibule, Noreen grasping my arm
nervously, as she faced the shadowed
interior of the deserted building. Some
instinct of caution caused me to close
the door behind us, and then 1 drew
her forward, laughing at her fears,
until we obtained glimpse of the fcrger
room, already becoming obscured by
the approaching night. It was a rather
shabby-looking place, not overly clean,
even in that merciful dimness. Rude
benches, without backs, stretched al
most from wall to wall, a narrow aisle
leading to the pulpit, set within an al
cove, and scarcely discernible exeept
in barest outlines. I recognized a big
Bible, lying open on the gaunt pulpit
stand. A book of some kind, dog's
eared and coverless, lay on the floor
at my feet, and I bent to pick it up.
As I came upright again, a man
stepped from the shadow of a corner,
and the steel barrel of a revolver
flashed before my eyes. I felt Noreen
cringe against me, uttering a muffled
cry.
“Stand as you are, Yank,” said a
rather pleasant voice. "Pardon me,
lady.”
He was a young fellow, with bold,
black eyes, a little, jaunty mustache,
and a mouth inclined to laugh, but
what I stared at in open-eyed aston
ishment, was his broad-brimmed hat
and natty gray cavalry jacket.
“Some surprise party, I reckon,” he
chuckled grimly. “Here, Wharton,
kindly relieve the gentleman of his
arsenal; take the lady's gun, also. It's
all right, boys.”
To my unbounded amazement, np
from the floor, where they had been
lying concealed beneath the benches,
a number of men came scrambling to
their feet. Those nearest me were
sray clad troopers, with carbines io
their hands.
“Who, in heaven’s name, are you?”
r asked, at last finding my voice. “Con
federates here?”
“Your first guess is an excellent
me,’ he answered lightly, evidently
enjoying the scene. "You have the
onor of being prisoner to the Third
Kentucky cavalry. Wharton.”
"Yes, sir.” The sergeant advanced.
"Conduct the lady and gentleman to
the sanctity of the pulpit, sergeant,
where they may commune with the
presiding genius of this house of wor
ship erected in the wilderness.”
"You mean you hold prisoner Par
son Nichols?" I asked.
“No doubt ’tis he. We discovered
the party alone here, and held him
for the pleasure of his company.”
"Just a moment, lieutenant,” and I
faced him squarely, Ignoring the grip
of Wharton's hand on my arm.
“There is no reason to hold us prison
ers; all there is Yankee about me is
this uniform. I have Just escaped
from the Federal guard at Lewisburg.”
His eyes, laughing, yet suspicious,
swept our faces.
“I’m not easily fooled," he said, “but
ready enough to learn. Who are you?”
“Thomas Wyatt, sergeant, Staunton
horse artillery.”
“By all the gods, it soundeth
strange. How came you here?”
“On Jackson's orders. I was born
in this county, and because of that he
chose me to find out the numbers and
disposition of the Federal troops in
this neighborhood, together with some
other facts he wished to know. I was
captured in Federal uniform, and held
under death sentence as a spy. I
escaped last night.”
"And the woman?”
She threw back the cape which had
partially concealed her face, revealing
her bright eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Permit me to answer for myself,
Lieutenant Harwood.”
"Noreen Harwood! Why, It takes
me off my feet. How comes it you are
here?”
"My father is dead," she answered
simply, the brightness vanishing from
her face. “He was killed only a few
days ago.”
“I regret to learn that, cousin.” and
he held out his hand. “Who is this
man. and why are you here with him?”
“He has told you the truth," she an
swdred quietly, her hand still within
his. “I have known him front child
hood. I—l am his wife.”
There was a moment of silence, of
hesitation. I heard the soldiers mov
ing about the room, and the murmur
of voices speaking cautiously. Then
Harwood released her hand, and ex
tended his own to me, his eyes frank
and cordial.
"I accept you on faith, comrade," he
said pleasantly, “but there is a spare
gray jacket strapped to my saddle
yonder more becoming than that blue
coat. Saint Christopher! but 'tis a
most _happy family reunion we're hav
Ing; TT1 Want Che"story presently, out
now I must look to my men. 'Tls no
easy game we are playing.”
"Let me understand that, lieuten
ant," 1 exclaimed, as he turned away.
“How does it happen you are her%
and for what purpose?”
"A wild plan of my own, aided and
abetted by the commander at Coving
ton. We are of the garrison there,”
he explained briefly, his glance search
ing out the dim interior. "The Yan
kees have a forage train out as far as
Hot Springs. I got permission for a
dash to cut them off. We took the
cut-off, and landed here about daylight.
The train should have been along be
fore now, but there Is no sign of it.”
“You have been in hiding here all
day, and seen nothing?”
“Oh! we’ve seen enough," and he
laughed. "But nothing we cared to
measure swords with. The road yon
der appears popular, but, by good luck,
no Yankee shows an eagerness to at
tend church. There was a gang of
mountain men along by here maybe
wo hours ago who rode up to the
ioor, and took a look at the shebang.
Whether they were Yank or Reb I
didn’t know. Anyhow, we were willing
enough to see them pass on out o’
sight. They looked and talked as
though they w'ere spoiling for a fight.”
“How many?”
“Thirty or forty—a right smart
crowd. There were only two came up,
and rode round the church—a big fel
low with a red beard, and a little wea
zel-fac.ed fox he called Kelly."
"Yes. I know them; they w-ere hunt
ing after us. Did they go on eaHt?”
“They did. So has everyone else
we’ve seen today. That’s what puz
zled us as to just what might be up.
I reckon you must be some popular
to create such a furore. Why, an
hour after sunup a whole blame com
pany of bluecoats went by, riding lUe
mad, their horses dripping, and a
young fellow spurring them on. He’d
lost his hat, and they never so much
as took a side look at this shebang.
They were in some hurry, my friend.”
“And neither party has returned?"
“Not a sign or them.”
“What force have you here?”
“Twenty-eight enlisted men.”
"You have pickets out?”
"One man each way. a mile down
the road, concealed. The tower up
there commands the country In both
directions."
“And your horses?"
‘‘Hidden In the grove yonder.”
I grasped the situation clearly
enough, and also comprehended the
reckless nonchalance of the officer.
What was his purpose—his present
plan? It appeared to me that the
conditions warranted a retreat, back
along the unfrequented mountain trail
by which this daring party of adven
turers had come. The troops, as well
as the guerrillas, must have discov
ered by this time that we were not In
advance of them. They would return
searching every nook and corner in
hope of discovering our hiding place.
They might even unite their forces.
Impelled as they were by the same de
sire, and thus become truly formidable.
Personal hatred of me and the wish to
regain possession of Noreen. would
animate and control both Anse Cowan
and the angry, humiliated lieutenant.
While neither would likely confess hia
purpose to the other, yet their mutual
interests would naturally suggest an
alliance. And there was ho war feud
between the two which would neces
sarily prevent their co-operation. In
deed, the troopers would gladly wel
come any excuse which would bring
Cowan’s gang of outlaws into closer
connection. And the outfit would
never pass by this church again with
out searching its interior. Only ea
gerness, a haste to overtake us in our
attempted flight, had led to their blind
riding by before. 1 turned to Har
wood, who was whispering nonsense
to Noreen.
“What do you mean to do, lieuten
ant?” I asked quietly, but with ray
own mind made up. “Remain here?”
He stroked his small mustache.
“I thought we might hang on until
midnight, Wyatt, and then, if nothing
happened, take the back trail. I don’t
want to pass another day in this
cussed hole. What do you think?”
“That the sooner we get away the
better,” 1 answered promptly. “Your
position here is far more dangerous
than you appear to realize. Both those
parties traveling east were in search «
after us; they were led by men who
would go to any extreme to effect our
capture. 1 haven’t time to tell you
the whole story now. but it involves
your cousin as well as myself. They
rode straight on because they were
convinced we were still ahead of them.
’Tis likely they know better now, and
will search every ravine and covert on
their return. If the forage train is
moving this way those cavalrymen are
with it In addition to the regular
guard, and you will never dare attack
with your small force. The only
chance you have of bringing your
command Bafely back to Oftvlngton.
lieutenant, is to get away before your
presence here is suspected.”
“I suppose that’s right," he sdmlf
ted reluctantly. "But I don't like to
turn tall without hitting a blow—it’s
not the style of the Third Kentucky.
We could give a good account of our
selves against those Yankee troopers.”
“Possibly; but not against a combl
bination of troopers, wagon guard, and
Cowan’s gang of guerrillas. They
would outnumber you four to one; and
they are fighting men."
“You think they will combine?" __ ;
CONTIN 'D IN NEXT ISSUE,
Daily Thought.
Concentration is the seer
Strength.—Emerson.