t's surely not a part of Colonel Talbot's command," said Dick. "If so,
Harry Kenton and his friends would certainly be there and I shouldn't
like to be in battle with them again."

"Never a fear of that," said Sergeant Whitley. "It's more likely to be
some guerrilla band, roaming around as it pleases. The condition of the
country and these mountains give such fellows a chance. I'm going to lie
down and creep forward as we used to do on the plains. I want to get a
sight of those fellows, that is, if you say so, sir."

"Of course," said Dick, "but don't take too big risks, sergeant. We
can't afford to let you be shot."

"Never fear," said the sergeant, dropping almost flat upon his face,
and creeping slowly forward.

The dusky figure worming itself through the bushes heightened the
illusion of an old Indian combat. The sergeant was a scout and trailer
feeling for the enemy and he reminded Dick of his famous ancestor,
Paul Cotter. Several more shots were fired by the foe, but they did not
hurt anybody, all of them flying overhead. Dick's men were anxious to
send random bullets in reply into the thickets, but he restrained them.
It would be only a waste, and while it was annoying to be held there,
it could not be helped. Some of the horses reared and plunged with
fright at the shots, but silence soon came.

Dick still watched the sergeant as he edged forward, inch by inch.
Had not his eyes been following the dusky figure he could not have picked
it out from the general darkness. But he still saw it faintly, a darker
blur against the dark earth. Yielding a little to his own anxiety,
he handed the bridle of his horse to his orderly, and moved toward the
edge of the woodland strip, bending low, and using the tree trunks for
shelter.

At the last tree he knelt and looked for those on the other side.
The sergeant was already beyond cover, but he lay so low in the grass
that Dick himself could scarcely discern him.

The wind was still driving the thin sheets of rain before it, and was
keeping up a howling and whistling in the pass, a most sinister sound to
one not used to the forest and darkness, although Dick paid no attention
to it.

Twice the clouds parted slightly and showed a bit of moonlight, but the
gleam was so brief that it was gone in a second or two. Nevertheless at
the second ray Dick saw crouched beside a tree at the far side of the
road a small hunched figure holding a rifle, the head crowned b