sun-darkened
hands and wrists, crouched on the raft as Drew brought Hannibal down to
that unwieldy craft.

"Tryin' for the cap'n's hoss?"

"What's wrong with it?" Drew helped the Texan push off.

"Reaches no bottom, an' then it plain warps its backbone tryin' to paw
down the sky. Maybe that mule can git some sense into the loco critter.
But I'm not buyin' no chips on his doin' it."

Drew located Campbell's horse, a rangy, good-looking gray which reminded
him a little of the colt he had seen at Red Springs, snorting and
trotting back and forth along the path they had worn on the banks during
their efforts of the past twenty-four hours. One of the rear guard held
its lead rope and kept as far from the skittish animal as he could.

"He's plumb mean," the guardian informed Drew. "When he jumps, get out
from under--quick!"

Yet when Drew, mounted on Hannibal now, brought the horse down to the
water's edge, the horse appeared to go willingly enough. The scout
tossed the lead rope to Kirby, waiting until the raft pushed off with
its load of men and fringe of horses, then took to the river beside
Campbell's horse. When they reached the deeper section he saw the gray
go into action.

Rearing, the horse appeared about to try to climb onto the raft. And the
man holding its lead rope dropped it quickly. Drew, swimming, one hand
on Hannibal's powerful shoulder, tried to guide the mule toward the
horse that was still splashing up and down in a rocking-horse movement.
But the mule veered suddenly, and Drew saw those threatening hoofs loom
over his own head. He pushed away frantically, but too late to miss a
numbing blow as one hoof grazed his shoulder.

Somehow, with his other hand outflung, he caught Hannibal's rope tail
and held on with all the strength he had left, while the water washed in
and out of a long raw gouge in the skin and muscles of his upper arm.

8

_Happy Birthday, Soldier!_

"No water here either." Boyd climbed up the bank of what might once have
been a promising stream. Carrying three canteens, he ran the tip of his
tongue over his lips unhappily. "It sure is hot!"

They had turned off the road, which was now filled with men, horses,
men, artillery, and men, all slogging purposefully forward. They
composed an army roused out before daylight, on the move toward another
army holed in behind a breastworks and waiting. And over all, the
exhausting blanket of mid-July heat which pressed to squeez