"Of course it has. Drop a little lower, Mr. Mason. I see the bushes out
there shaking."

"And that's the sign that Slade and his men have come. Well, I'm not
sorry."

Both Dick and the sergeant lay almost flat with their heads raised a
little, and their rifles pushed forward. The bushes ceased to shake,
but Dick had no doubt their pursuers were before them. They had probably
divined, too, that the quarry was at bay and was dangerous. Evidently
the sergeant had been correct when he said Slade was full of craft and
cunning.

While they waited the spirit of Dick's famous ancestor descended upon him
in a yet greater measure. Their pursuers were not Indians, but this was
the deep wilderness and they were merely on a skirt of the great war.
Many of the border conditions were reproduced, and they were to fight as
borderers fought.

"What do you think they're doing?" Dick whispered.

"Feeling around for us. Slade won't take any more risk than he has to.
Did you see those two birds fly away from that bough, sudden-like?
I think one of the men has just crept under it. But the fellow who
exposes himself first won't be Slade."

Dick's inherited instinct was strong, and he watched not only in front,
but to right and left also. He knew that cunning men would seek to flank
and surprise them, and he noticed that the sergeant also watched in a
wide circle. He still drew tremendous comfort from the presence of the