ean--" began Whitley.

"Yes, I mean it. I know it. The man in front wearing the fur cap is Bill
Skelly. He and his men made an attack upon the home of my uncle, Colonel
Kenton, who is a Southern leader in Kentucky. He and his band were
Northerners there, but they will be Southerners here, if it suits their
purpose."

"An' it will shorely suit their purpose to be Southerners now," said Red
Blaze. "We three are ridin' mighty good hoss flesh. Me an' the sergeant
have good rifles an' pistols, you have good pistols, an' we all have
good, big overcoats. This is a lonely mountain side with war flyin' all
about us. Easy's the place an' easy's the deed. That is if we'd let 'em,
which we ain't goin' to do."

"Not by a long shot," said Sergeant Whitley, resting his rifle across
the pommel of his saddle. "They've got to follow straight behind. The
ground is too rough for them to ride around an' flank us."

Dick said nothing, but his gauntleted hand moved down to the butt of one
of his pistols. His heart throbbed, but he preserved the appearance of
coolness. He was fast becoming inured to danger. Owing to the slope
they could not increase the speed of their horses greatly, but they were
beyond the mouth of the path before they were seen by Skelly and his
band. Then the big mountaineer uttered a great shout and began to wave
his hand at them.

"The road curves here a little among the rocks," said the sergeant, who
unconsciously took command. "Suppose we stop, sheltered by the curve,
and ask them what they want."

"The very thing to do," said Dick.

"Sass 'em, sergeant! Sass 'em!" said Red Blaze.

They drew their horses back partially in the shadow of the rocky curve,
but the sergeant was a little further forward than the others. Dick saw
Skelly and a score of men emerge into the road and come rapidly toward
them. They were a wild-looking crew, mounted on tough mountain ponies,
all of them carrying loot, and all armed heavily.

The sergeant threw up his rifle, and with a steady hand aimed straight
at Skelly's heart.

"Halt!" he cried sharply, "and tell me who you are!"

The whole crew seemed to reel back except Skelly, who, though stopping
his horse, remained in the center of the road.

"What do you mean?" he cried. "We're peaceful travelers. What business
is it of yours who we are?"

"Judgin' by your looks you're not peaceful travelers at all. Besides
these ain't peaceful times an' we take the right to demand who you