y an
enormous flap-brimmed hat. His imagination also made him see small,
close-set, menacing red eyes, and he knew at once that it was Slade,
the same guerrilla leader who had once pursued him with such deadly
vindictiveness through the Mississippi forest and swamps. He had heard
that he had come farther north and had united his band with that of
Skelly, who pretended to be on the other side. But one could never tell
about these outlaws. When they were distant from the regular armies
nobody was safe from them.

"Did you see?" whispered Dick to the sergeant who had crept to his side.

"Yes, I caught a glimpse of him. It was Slade, who tried so hard to kill
you down there in the Vicksburg campaign. If we get another ray of the
moonlight I'll pick him off, that is if you say so, sir."

"I've no objection, sergeant. Such a man as Slade cumbers the earth.
Besides, he'll do everything he can now to kill us."

The sergeant knelt, carbine raised, and waited for the ray of moonlight.
He was a dead shot, and he believed that he would not miss, but when the
ray came at last Slade was not there. Whitley uttered a low exclamation
of disgust.

"A good chance gone," he said, "and it may never come again. I'd have
saved the lives of a lot of good men."

But a flash came from the thicket, and the sergeant from the grass
replied. A cry followed his shot, showing that some one had received his
bullet, but Dick knew instinctively that it was not Slade, the crafty
leader he was sure now being safe behind the trunk of a tree.

Presently the sergeant fired from another point, and then crept hastily
away lest the flash of his rifle betray him. A dozen shots were fired by
Slade's band, but no harm was done, and then, the sergeant coming back,
Dick held a consultation with his two lieutenants and advisers.

"Perhaps we may flank them," he said. "We can divide our force, and
taking them by surprise drive them out of the wood."

But Sergeant Whitley, wary and weatherwise, was against it.

"The risk would be too great, sir," he said. "We can afford to wait
while they can't. Our whole column will be up in time, while it's not
likely that anybody can come to help Slade. It's true too, sir, that
this rain is going to stop. The clouds are beginning to clear away,
and when there's light we'll have a fair chance at 'em."

"I think," said Dick, "that it will be best for Mr. Shepard to return and
hurry up a relieving column. Wh