rectly
upon them, but they did hate this band of sharpshooters which had
come creeping through the woods to pick them off, and they hated them
collectively and individually.

It was Dick's single and fierce desire at that moment to catch sight
of Slade, whom he would shoot without hesitation if the chance came.
He looked for him continually as he crept from bush to bush, and he
withheld his fire until fortune might bring into his view the flaps of
that enormous hat. The whole vast battle of Chickamauga passed from his
mind. He was concentrated, heart and soul, upon this affair of outposts
in the thickets.

Men around him were firing, and the bullets in return were knocking up
the leaves about him, but Dick's finger did not yet press the trigger.
The great hat was still hidden from view, but he heard Slade's whistle
calling to his men. Sergeant Whitley was by the lad's side, and he
glanced at him now and then. The wise sergeant read the youth's face,
and he knew that he was upon a quest, a deadly one.

"Is it Slade you're looking for, Mr. Mason?" he asked.

"Yes, I want him!"

"Well, if we see him, and you miss him, I think I'll take a shot at him
myself."

But Slade, crafty and cunning, kept himself well hidden. The two bands
fighting this Indian combat, while the great battle raged so near them,
were now very near to each other, but as they had both thickets and a
rocky outcrop for refuge, they fought from hiding. Nevertheless many
fell. Dick, the ferocity of the man-hunt continuing to burn his brain,
sought everywhere for Slade. Often he heard his silver whistle directing
his troop, but the man himself remained invisible. In his eagerness the
lad rose too high, but the sergeant pulled him down in time, a bullet
whistling a second later through the air where his head had been.

"Careful, Mr. Mason! Careful!" said Sergeant Whitley. "It won't do you
much good for one of his men to get you while you are trying to get
him!"

Dick became more cautious. At last he caught a glimpse of the great hat
that he could not mistake, and, aiming very carefully, he fired. Then he
uttered an angry cry. He had missed, and when the sergeant was ready to
pull the trigger also Slade was gone.

Now, the colonel called to his men, and rising they charged into the
wood. It was evidently no part of Slade's plan to risk destruction as he
blew a long high call on his whistle, and then he and all his men save
the dead melted away like