Aunt Debby riding upon the
roads that wound around the mountain sides, while Fortner led the men
through the shorter by-paths.

Noon had passed some hours, and yet they had come across no signs of
wagons. Aunt Debby was riding along a road cut out of the rocks
about mid-way up the mountain. To her right the descent was almost
perpendicular for a hundred feet or more to where a creek ran at the
bottom of a cliff. To her left the hill rose up steeply to a great
height. Fortner and the others saw Aunt Debby galloping back, waving the
red handkerchief which was her signal of the approach of a wagon. After
her galloped a Rebel Sergeant, with revolver drawn shouting to her to
stop or he would fire. Abe Bolton stepped forward impulsively to shoot
the Rebel, missed his footing, and slid down the hill, landing in
the road with such force as to jar into unintelligibility a bitter
imprecation he had constructed for the emergency. He struck in front of
the Sergeant, who instantly fired at Aunt Debby's mare, sending a bullet
through the faithful animal, which sank to her knees, and threw her
rider to the ground. Without waiting to rise, and he was not certain
that he could, Abe fired his musket, but missed both man and horse. He
scrambled to his feet, and ran furiously at the Rebel with raised
gun. The Sergeant fired wildly at him, when Bolton struck the animal
a violent blow across the head. It recoiled, slipped, and in another
instant had fallen over the side of the road, and crushed his rider on
the rocks below. Five of the wagon-guard who were riding ahead of the
wagon galloped forward at the sound of the shots. Fortner, Edwards
and Harry Glen fired into these, and three saddles were emptied. The
remaining two men whirled their horses around, fired wildly into the
air, and dashed back upon the plunging team, with which the driver was
vainly struggling. The ground quivered as the frightened animals struck
together; they were crushed back upon their haunches, and beat one
another cruelly with their mighty hoofs. Wagon, horses and men reeled on
the brink an agonizing instant; the white-faced driver dropped the lines
and sprang to the secure ground; the riders strained with the energy
of deadly fear to tear themselves loose from their steeds, but in vain.
Then the frantic mess crashed down the jagged rocks, tearing up the
stunted cedars as if they were weeds, and fell with a sounding splash on
the limestone bed of the shallow creek.