It was only a shadow, but it was like the figure of a man. A single
glimpse and he was gone. The stranger, whoever he was, had darted back
in the undergrowth. Dick waited another five minutes, but the shadow did
not reappear. He felt a measure of relief because all doubts were gone
now. He was sure that he was followed, but by whom?

He knew that his danger had increased manifold. Some Southern scout or
skirmisher had discovered his presence and, in such a quest, the trailer
had the advantage of the trailed. Yet he did not hesitate. He knew his
general direction and, shifting the pistols from the saddle-holsters to
his belt he again urged his horse forward.

When they came to good ground he walked, leading his mount, as the animal
was much exhausted by the effort the marshes needed. But whenever the
undergrowth grew dense he stopped to look and listen. He did not see
the shadow and he heard nothing save the ordinary sounds of the woods,
but either instinct or imagination told him that the stranger still
followed.

The sun was far down the westward slope, but it was still very hot in the
woods. There was no breeze. Not a leaf, nor a blade of grass stirred.
Dick heard his heart still pounding. The unseen pursuit--he had no
doubt it was there--was becoming a terrible strain upon his nerves. The
perspiration ran down his face, and he sought with angry eyes for a sight
of the fellow who presumed to hang upon his tracks.

He began to wonder what he would do when the night came. There would be
no rest, no sleep for him, even in the darkness. Twice he curved from
his course and hid in the undergrowth to see his pursuer come up, but