“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 saw that the man had a thin, clean-shaven face with a strong nose and chin.
“I ‘low you’re runnin’ away from the Yankees,” said Lankford to Sherburne.
Sherburne flushed, but no anger showed in his voice as he replied:
“You’re right, but we run for two reasons. They’re five to our one, and we have business elsewhere that mustn’t be interrupted by fighting.”
“First reason is enough. A man who fights five to one is five times a fool. I’m a good Johnny Reb myself, though I keep off the fightin’ lines. I live back there in a house among the trees, just off the road. You’d have seen it when you passed by, if you hadn’t been in such a hurry. Just settin’ down to take a smoke when Mandy, my wife, tells me she hears the feet of many horses thunderin’ on the road. In a moment I hear ’em, too. Run to the front porch, and see Confederate cavalry coming at a gallop, followed by a big Yankee force. Mandy and me didn’t like the sight, and we agree that I take a hand. Now I’m takin’ it.”
“How do you intend to help us?”
“I’m gettin’ to that. I saddled my big horse quick as lightnin’, and takin’ a runnin’ jump out of the woods, landed beside you. Now, listen, Captain; I reckon you’re on some sort of scoutin’ trip, and want to go on toward the river.”
“You reckon right.”
“About a mile further on we dip into a little valley. A creek, wide but shallow and with a bed all rocks, takes up most of the width of that valley. It goes nearly to the north, and at last reaches the Potomac. A half mile from the crossin’ ahead it runs through steep, high banks that come right down to its edges, but the creek bottom is smooth enough for the horses. I ‘low I make myself plain enough, don’t I, Mr. Captain?”
“You do, Mr. Lankford, and you’re an angel in homespun. Without you we could never do what we want to do. Lead the way to that blessed creek. We don’t want any of the Yankee vanguard to see us when we turn and follow its stream.”
“We can make it easy. They might guess that we’re ridin’ in the water to hide our tracks, but the bottom is so rocky they won’t know whether we’ve gone up or down the stream. And if they guessed the right way, and followed it, they’d be likely to turn back at the cliffs, anyhow.”
They urged their horses now to the uttermost, and Harry soon saw the waters of the creek shining through the darkness. Everything was falling out as Lankford had said. The pursuit was unseen and unheard behind them, but they knew it was there.