had been so reticent, too. But Drew had pieced out that something
big and ugly must have happened to begin all the painful tangle which
had led from his grandfather's cold hatred for Hunt Rennie, that hatred
which had been transferred to Hunt Rennie's son when the original target
was gone.

When Drew first joined the army and met Texans he had hoped that one of
them might recognize his name and say:

"Rennie? You any kin to the Rennies of-" Of where? The Brazos, the Rio
country, West Texas? He had no idea in which part of that sprawling
republic-become-a-state the Rennies might have been born and bred. But
how he had longed in those first lonely weeks of learning to be a
soldier to find one of his own--not of the Mattock clan!

"Yes, I would like to see Texas!" Boyd pulled the blanket closer about
his shoulders, curling up on his side of their bush-walled hole. "Wish
these fool Yankees would know when they're licked and get back home so
we could do somethin' like that." He closed his eyes with a child's
determination to sleep, and by now a soldier's ability to do so when the
opportunity offered.

Drew watched the river. The dusk was night now with the speed of the
season. And the crisp of autumn hung over the water. This was the
twenty-ninth of October; he counted out the dates. How long they could
hold their trap they didn't know, but at least long enough to wrest from
the enemy some of the supplies they needed far worse than Sherman's men
did.

General Buford had let four transports past their masked batteries today
because they had carried only soldiers. But sooner or later a loaded
ship was going to come up. And when that did--Drew's hand assured him
that the General's red handkerchief was still inside against his ribs
where he had put it for safekeeping.

In the early morning Drew slipped down to the river's edge behind a
screen of willow to dip the cold water over his head and shoulders--an
effective way to clear the head and banish the last trace of sleep.

The sun was up and it must have been shortly before eight when they
sighted her, a Union transport riding low in the water, towing two
barges. A quick inspection through the binoculars he had borrowed from
Wilkins told Drew that this was what the General wanted. He passed the
signal to Boyd.

"_Mazeppa_," he read the name aloud as the ship wallowed by their post.
She was passing the lower battery now, and there was no sign of any
gunboat escort. But