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an and Rebel Jerry had suddenly--instead of death--life, liberty, arms, a horse each, and the sudden pursuit of happiness in a wild dash toward the Yankee camp, while in a dew-drenched meadow two miles away Chad Buford drew Dixie in to listen. The fight was on. If the rebels won, Dan Dean would be safe; if the Yankees--then there would still be need of him and the paper over his heart. He was too late to warn, but not, maybe, to fight--so he galloped on. But the end came as he galloped. The amazed Fourth Ohio threw down its arms at once, and Richard Hunt and his men, as they sat on their horses outside the camp picking up stragglers, saw a lone scout coming at a gallop across the still, gray fields. His horse was black and his uniform was blue, but he came straight on, apparently not seeing the rebels behind the ragged hedge along the road. When within thirty yards, Richard Hunt rode through a roadside gate to meet him and saluted. "You are my prisoner," he said, courteously. The Yankee never stopped, but wheeled, almost brushing the hedge as he turned. "Prisoner--hell!" he said, clearly, and like a bird was skimming away while the men behind the hedge, paralyzed by his daring, fired not a shot. Only Dan Dean started through the gate in pursuit. "I want him," he said, savagely. "Who's that?" asked Morgan, who had ridden up. "That's a Yankee," laughed Colonel Hunt. "Why didn't you shoot him?" The Colonel laughed again. "I don't know," he said, looking around at his men, who, too, were smiling. "That's the fellow who gave us so much trouble in the Green River Country," said a soldier. "It's Chad Buford." "Well, I'm glad we didn't shoot him," said Colonel Hunt, thinking of Margaret. That was not the way he liked to dispose of a rival. "Dan will catch him," said an officer. "He wants him bad, and I don't wonder." Just then Chad lifted Dixie over a fence. "Not much," said Morgan. "I'd rather you'd shot him than that horse." Dan was gaining now, and Chad, in the middle of the field beyond the fence, turned his head and saw the lone rebel in pursuit. Deliberately he pulled weary Dixie in, faced about, and waited. He drew his pistol, raised it, saw that the rebel was Daniel Dean, and dropped it again to his side. Verily the fortune of that war was strange. Dan's horse refused the fence and the boy, in a rage, lifted his pistol and fired. Again Chad raised his own pistol and again he lowered it
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