impressed by Harry's words, and the little detachment,
returning at a gallop, joined the main troop, which was now close to a
considerable stretch of forest.

"Ah, there they are!" exclaimed Harry, looking back at the hill on which
he had seen the lone horseman.

A powerful body of cavalry showed for a moment against the sun, which
was burning low and red in the west. The background was so intense and
vivid that the horsemen did not form a mass, but every figure stood
detached, a black outline against the sky. Harry judged that they were
at least a thousand in number.

"Too strong a force for us to meet," said Sherburne. "They must
outnumber us five to one, and since they've had practice the Northern
cavalry has improved a lot. It must be a part of the big force that
made the scout toward our lines. Good thing the forest is just ahead."

"And a good thing, too, that night is not far off."

"Right, my boy, we need 'em both, the forest and the dark. The Union
cavalry is going to pursue us, and I don't mean to turn back. General
Jackson sent us to find about McClellan's crossing, and we've got to do
it."

"I wouldn't dare go back to Old Jack without the information we're sent
to get."

"Nor I. Hurry up the men, Marlowe. We've got to lose the Union cavalry
in the forest somehow."

The men urged their horses forward at a gallop and quickly reached the
trees. But when Harry looked back he saw the thousand in blue about
a mile away, coming at a pace equal to their own. He felt much
apprehension. The road through the forest led straight before them,
but the trail of two hundred horses could not be hidden even by night.
They could turn into the forest and elude their pursuers, but, as
Sherburne said, that meant abandoning their errand, and no one in all
the group thought of such a thing.

Sherburne increased the pace a little now, while he tried to think of
some way out. Harry rode by his side in silence, and he, too, was
seeking a solution. Through the trees, now nearly leafless, they saw
the blue line still coming, and the perplexities of the brave young
captain grew fast.

But the night was coming down, and suddenly the long, lean figure of a
man on the long, lean figure of a horse shot from the trees on their
right and drew up by the side of Sherburne and Harry.

"Lankford, sir, Jim Lankford is my name," he said to Sherburne, touching
one finger to his forehead in a queer kind of salute.

Harry