ore. An' you kin come in, Jas'. These
here Rebs ain't gonna be no trouble--is you, sonny?"

Drew shook his head. Luck appeared to be on his side. Once Jas' was in
here, they could hope to turn tables on the three of them, with
Weatherby and Kirby taking them by surprise.

Jas' appeared in the doorway a moment or so later. He was younger than
his two companions, younger and more tidy. His coat was also blue, and
he wore a forage cap pulled down over hair very fair in the firelight.
There was a fluff of young beard on his chin, and he carried himself
with the stance of a drilled man. Deserter, thought Drew.

The newcomer surveyed Drew and Boyd expressionlessly, his eyes oddly
shallow, and tramped past them to hold his hands to the blaze on the
hearth, keeping his rifle between his knees. Then he reached up with his
weapon, hooked the barrel in the chain supporting the pot, and pulled
that to him, sniffing at the now bubbling contents.

"You, Reb"--the big man towered over Drew--"git this friend o' yourn an'
drag him over thar. Us wants to git warm."

"Drew?" Boyd looked up questioningly, his feverish gaze passing on to
the guerrilla. "Where's Shelly?"

The big man's grin faded. His big boot came out, caught Drew's leg in a
vicious prod.

"Who's this here Shelly? Whar at is he?"

"Shelly was his brother," Drew said, nodding at Boyd. "He's dead."

"Dead, eh? How come sonny boy here's askin' for him then?" He leaned
over them, and his fingers grabbed and twisted at the front of Drew's
threadbare shell jacket. "I ask yuh, Reb, whar at is this heah Shelly?"
He seemed only to flick his wrist, but the strength behind that move
whirled Drew away from Boyd, brought him part way to his feet, and
slammed him against the wall--where the big man held him pinned with
small expenditure of effort.

"Shelly's dead." Somehow Drew kept his voice even. Kirby ... Weatherby
... They were there. "Boyd's out of his head with fever."

Jas' let the pot swing back over the fire, moving toward Boyd to lean
over and stare at the boy's flushed face.

"Might be so," Jas' remarked. "Two horses, two men. Neither one much to
bother about."

"Better be so!" The big man held Drew tight to the wall and cuffed him
with his other hand. Dazedly, his head ringing, Drew slipped to the
floor as the other released him. "Now"--that boot prodded Drew
again--"git your friend over thar, Reb."

Drew stumbled back and went on his knees beside Boyd. His f